Full Cycle
by microlm
Summary: The wheels of life, separate yet connected. Repetition, granted wishes, retribution; oh, how it all returns to us in a full cycle. semi-AU
1. Prologue

A/N: Will this story make sense? I dunno…but the format will be understandable at least, or so I believe. I kind of jump around a lot. Half of it will be AU…I think, should it be termed that way? Ahh, I'm confusing myself. One thing I know for sure, this isn't written in my normal style. I'm experimenting a bit. Also, because this is getting ridiculously long for a 'oneshot', I'm splitting it up.

---The Cycle---

A life is in some ways like clothes. You wear it once and then change them. However, you can never wear that shirt again after the first time. Also unlike clothes, those things that you left behind in your other lives come back to haunt you. It's not like you reset completely whenever you change a life, it still affects you, whether you're aware of it or not. Usually, you're not. That's another funny thing about a life; you can almost never recall that you ever wore it. All that you can sometimes recall is a blurry image of it, and even then, it is quickly dismissed.

_Dreams,_ you say to yourself, _déjà vu._

But are they just dreams? Who knows. Ponder for the rest of this life, and still, you may never know.


	2. Happiness

A/N: Because I'm just splitting the chapters up right now, I have nothing witty to say whatsoever.

---First Cycle: Happiness---

A young girl is running down a snowy street garbed in little more than a few rags. Her skin pulled tightly around her bones and there was nagging hunger in her stomach. She ran on.

The truth was the girl was lucky to even be alive. Nearly every other could've-been children had been force to be aborted. It was the law at that place. After all, the women there were only good so long as they weren't with a child. However, her mother's stomach had only a small bulge when she was pregnant, and as a result, she was able to hide the child. With the help of a few sympathizers, she managed to successfully deliver the child. She gave birth at the father's house and left the child under his care. She loved him very much.

Said father was accused of killing a man by stabbing him with several knives a month later and hightailed it out of town. He was never heard from again. The child was left behind. The mother had no choice but to take the child and let someone else people raise her. At least she never knew her child's father really did kill a man exactly as the accusations said.

The person who the girl stayed with was a poor, but kind man. He was someone who had known the mother for a long time; even before debts began to run her down. That man used to take her to see her mother about once or twice a month. As the girl got older, she began to go without the man.

That was where the girl was headed that day, that life. She stopped in front of a wooden building in serious need of repairs. She couldn't go directly in, so she went into the alley where there was window for her to look through. She stood on the tips of her toes to just barely raise her eye level above the sill. Her eyes scanned the room within. It was filled with men with women in daring clothes. Laughs filled the room too, some raucous, some too loud, some forced and faked, and some shrill and high.

The girl's eyes fixed onto a woman; her mother. She was laughing with a man. It was fake; the girl had heard it enough to know that. Her face was heavy with make-up; otherwise, the man would see how sallow her face was and the dark bags under her eyes. The work had taken a heavy toll on the woman. The girl continued to stare at her mother, eyes following her whenever she moved, taking everything in.

Then the woman saw the girl, but she only froze for a moment before resuming to entertain the man. The girl didn't mind, she knew that her mother would come out for her soon.

And so she did. The instant the man left for a room, the woman slipped out of the building and into the alley where the girl was. She kneeled to embrace her child. The girl smiled, enjoying the moment. She tried to remember everything, down to very last line on her mother's face. The mother patted her on the cheeks and ruffled her hair. She was happy and yet so very regretful. Her child was living in the squalors. Even the already small clothes hung loosely on the child's body.

_Mommy, when are you coming home?_

_One day. One day._

There was a yell from within the building. It was the manager, shrieking for the mother. The woman pressed a few coins into the girl's bony hands and hugged her briefly before rushing back into the building. The manager didn't know that the woman had given birth, or that the girl's visitations were the reason for her occasional disappearances. That was a secret.

The girl immediately turned back to the window and stood on her toes, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mother. She did, for a second, and then the woman disappeared up the stairs. The girl continued to stare through the window, wishing that her mother would reappear. After a good half hour or so, the girl turned away and began to walk 'home'. Her feet ached.

_Jingle. Jingle._ The girl tossed the coins a bit, liking the sounds they made. They were a copper color, but nice and polished. She couldn't believe how they could shiny they were.

This was how the girl saw her mother.

If she was unnoticed of course. She was usually unnoticed, but once she was caught.

The visit had gone as it always had at first, but her mother had been more careless than usual. The manager had finally seen her slip out of the building and followed her. Needless to say, the manager exploded.

The manager was a fairly old woman, not quite ancient, but getting there. She had been quite a beauty when she was young, but that had faded. Time decided to replace that beauty with skin that clung too tightly in some places, but drooped in others. Her earlobes drooped nearly to her shoulders. Heavy earrings had done that. Her remaining teeth were chipped, gray razors. Her left eye was clouded over with a yellow mist. The right eye, however, remained the same as when she was young. It was strange eye, the coloring was lighter brown than most, and the lines of the irises were defined sharply. But her skin decided to sag here too, and the eyelid covered the eye in a nearly perfect semi-circle.

The eye looked frightening to the girl. The manager screeched at the girl's mother. _What are you doing? What is this vermin you dirtying yourself by touching?! _She grabbed the child's wrists and swung her around. _What is this…thing?!_ The manager glared at the child. It was then that the girl got a full look at the manager's eye. It was a black hole of a pupil with sharp, shiny copper knives lining it, ready to stab anyone unlucky enough to be pulled in. The girl screamed. Screamed and screamed, trying to pull away.

The mother ran forward and grabbed the child from the manager's grasp, holding her tightly.

_Don't tell me,_ the manager said shrilly, _that that thing is your child!_

_So what if she is?_

_You ungrateful wench! After all I did for your father, and this is how you repay me?_

_No,_ the woman replied coldly, _you made me repay you in other ways._

_You! You!_ The manager's face was contorted into strange shapes that would not have been out of place in one of 'today's' contemporary paintings. The girl hid her face in her mother's clothes. _The next time I see that thing here, I'll kill it. Kill it like every other problem in this place._ She leered at the girl, _Only I cannot believe that I let this problem get so big._

_What's the difference if I have child or not?!_

_What's the difference?! Are you forgetting your position? You have no family, there's no need for love in a place like this, for a person like you. It'd do nothing but get in the way!_ With that, the manager walked back into the building, shouting only one last thing to the woman, _I will kill it!_

The girl sobbed into her mother. _D-does this mean I can't come back anymore?_

_No,_ her mother replied quietly, _not at all. Not at all._ She released the child and drifted back towards the building, a dreamy expression on her face.

The child ran forward and tugged at her mother's dress. _Mommy, don't go back in there yet!_

The mother turned and looked at the girl. Her eyes were glazed over and her mouth was twitching upwards, forming a contently sinister smile. _Oh, don't worry about anything. You can come back. Come back anytime. So just go home for now, alright?_

_Mommy?_

But the woman had already floated into the building, murmuring to herself, _I'm so tired of it. Yes, so very tired of it. _

The girl stood still for a few minutes until finally, she slowly began to walk home. She felt around in her pockets for the coins her mother had given her yesterday (she had forgotten to give them to her caretaker). They were still as shiny as ever.

And they glinted in the same shade as the old woman's eye. The girl shivered and stooped to the ground, digging around for a place where the snow was layered thinly and dirt could be easily found. When she found a spot, she rubbed the dirt on the coins to dull their color. On the last coin, she started with a streak down the middle. That coin resembled the old woman's droopy eye even more. Hesitantly, the girl smeared a zigzag down one side of the streak. Now, she had her own evil eye. She replaced the coins in her pocket and resumed her walk home. Once she got there, she would give her caretaker the coins. Except for the one with the eye. That she decided to keep to use against the real thing should it reappear and haunt her.

Now then, here's what the mother did that same night. She was so tired of working the way she did, and of trying to repay debts she knew she never would be able to, and of knowing she couldn't see her own child on top that; she did something quite rash.

She mixed various chemicals she found lying around and poured them all into the manager's tea. The manager only drank a gulp before trying to spew the tea back out, for it tasted horrible, but it was too late. The manager died.

The woman didn't even notice she did it; she was too deep in her dreamy state. In her eyes, all she did was make a cup of tea taste better. In her craze-induced euphoria, the woman suddenly decided that it would be alright to just leave her workplace and pay her first visit to her daughter's home. On her way there, she saw a glistening path, winding like a snake. It was so clear and crystal-like, with wonderful swirls that could just barely be seen under it, that she had to take walk on it and see those patterns better.

She took only a few steps before the path cracked and sent her into painfully cold water. Yet as the water swirled around her in different shades of light and dark, the woman could not help but think, _how pretty this is_.

The next day, a few a people found the body frozen in the water. The daughter was among them (she had been planning to head to the building again). She tried very hard to get closer to the prettiness, but the people near her kept her away.

Here's how the girl would die, years later: pneumonia.

* * *

Yako groaned and clutched at her stomach. Her belly had just waked her up _again_ in its quest to eat everything. Although, Yako had to admit; she didn't mind. She didn't like the dream she was having, whatever it was about. Besides, her alarm clock would've begun ringing in a few minutes anyways.

_Grumble. Gurgle._

"Alright, alright, just be quiet already. I'm going to eat," she muttered sleepily.

Her mother was already in the kitchen. "Good morning, Yako!" she said cheerfully, "What do you want for breakfast?"

Instantly, Yako was awake. "Oh, no no no no no! Mom, you can just sit down," she said nervously, "You already work so hard all day, so at least leave breakfast to me!" She pulled Haruka by the shoulders towards the table and seated her.

"I really don't mind," Haruka protested, "You make breakfast every morning. I can do that occasionally, can't I?"

Yako didn't answer out loud, but mentally, she was giving a firm no. A terrified no. She looked into the frying pan where her mother had begun to make eggs and shivered. The egg shells were still in it, and there were strange brown and blue lumps of who-knows-what sticking in the yolk. Really, her mother's cooking was lethal. Haruka had sent more people to the emergency room with her cooking than most criminals could brag about. And the way she got when she began to cook! Yako slumped, face darkening, oh yes, it was horrific.


	3. Fate

A/N: Never expect a section as long as this for this story ever again.

---Second Cycle: Fate---

There was a man at the time too. Well, he was boy where it begins, but he would be a man by the time the girl came along. He had a sister and loving parents where it begins. The where was a palace, years before it began.

The boy, as he was then, lived prestigiously. His parents were in high favor within the local lord's court, in fact, his father was a trusted advisor. Yes, he and his sister lived well.

He went to a school where the students who graduated usually went on to hold high positions in the government. The boy was quite smart, and so, it was nearly assured that he would become especially successful. He had a rival in that school, a short boy who had a confidence much bigger than himself. As a result, that boy, though quite smart too, had trouble seeing things the way others did. In fact, he couldn't even see that his rivalry with the boy was nearly completely one-sided. The boy couldn't have cared less if his test scores were better than that boy's, yet that boy always said that he was laughing at him whenever he scored higher.

Then one day the father overheard something very unfavorable about one of his superiors. But, he decided to brush it off and continued as though he had heard nothing. That something, however, ended up nearly bringing the lord down from power. The father had planned to keep silent about his knowledge, but he slipped up by saying something only someone who had overheard could've known. The lord was very angry. So angry in fact, he decided to execute the father.

The father died. Head chopped off, dressed in a red sauce and served on a platter for many eyes to feast on. The remaining members of the family were told to leave, stripped of their ranks and privileges. The boy had to leave the school as well. His rival would not stop berating him, calling him a coward for running away from their contest. It was annoying, but the boy didn't mind too much. At least it helped keep his mind off of his father's death.

And thus ended the boy's old life and began his new one. Yet, the image of his father's head could not be forgotten.

But he didn't outgrow boyhood just yet. For that, he had to first become the pillar of the household. And for that to happen, the pillar that was supporting the household then had to crumble. That pillar was his mother.

She had tried and tried to keep her family together and content, but the fact was, few high paying jobs wanted woman. And the few high paying jobs didn't want her or were too dangerous. As a result, the family was low on money and often hungry. Furthermore, they could afford only the cheapest of medicines and mainly relied on their own bodies to heal wounds or sicknesses. Of course, a weak body with no help can't fully destroy the enemy destroying it from within. The mother, aging fast, had a weak body. So, the evil viruses eventually won the war inside her and forever stilled the heart.

The pillar crumbled, and the boy at fourteen, became a man and filled in the position of the pillar.

He tried to work hard, really, he did. But he eventually got a reputation as someone who was always late, and as a result, was often at wits end to find someone who would employ him. He wasn't late because he wanted to be, no, not at all. However, ever since becoming the pillar of the family, he had begun to have times where he would freeze and just stare into space. That was when he would begin to remember. His father's head, seasoned and prepared as a feast for the eye. He would often remember this when eating a roast. The burnt out eyes of the carcass, they stared at him and he would stare back. His mother's body, swarmed with evil viruses, devouring her body like flies to a corpse. He would remember this even more often. He saw a body every day being devoured by flies as he walked to a job. When he froze and remembered, it wasn't just for a few minutes, it was for nearly an hour, sometimes even more. His sister would snap him out of it, when she was around, but often, she was not. She too, had work running odd errands around town.

_Big brother,_ she said to him one day, _One day, you're going to miss something important because you always have your head stuck in the past._

He knew that, but he didn't find it important. He couldn't see what he could possibly miss. In his mind, everything that was important had already happened. The present was just clockwork.

He knew a young woman who lived nearby. The woman's only remaining family was her father, who had recently been getting frailer and frailer. The man knew what would follow. Soon, the bad viruses would eat up her father's body too. It was the fate of all those who couldn't afford to strengthen their bodies. That woman, however, refused to accept that fate and tried everything to get money to fortify her father. Eventually, an old woman decided to lend out enough money for the woman to buy medicine, and so, her father got better.

The man was surprised; he had fully expected the father to die. He admired the woman for defying what he saw as something that could not be helped. He began to speak more to her, and eventually, they became good friends.

And then the father's body came under attack by viruses that could not be killed and he went the way of the man's mother. The man now realized that the woman had not defied fate; she had only held off what had to come.

Not only that, but now the woman had a huge debt, owed to the old woman who had given her the money. The woman begged for a way to repay her, and the old woman gave her a way. As it turns out, the old woman ran a brothel. The woman worked and worked to repay the debt.

The man no longer looked up to her the way he had, but he still remained good friends with her. He couldn't help but sympathize and pity her. Besides, she was good person. Although it was a bit hard as he saw less and less of the woman as time went on. And each time he did, he noticed her skin was getting paler and paler and began to cling tighter and tighter to her skull. Once, he saw the woman while she was sick.

_Cough. Cough. Cough._

She dismissed it. Said it was nothing.

_Cough. Cough. Cough._

Just a slight cold.

_Cough. Cough. Cough._

Yes, just a slight one.

Of course. A slight cold was exactly the reason she began to vomit the next day.

The man knew what was to blame. The place where the woman worked wasn't exactly sanitary. But then again, his world, their world, wasn't exactly clean and pure either.

He saw the evil viruses as they began to wage war on her body. It was long, hard battle, with heavy losses on both sides, but in the end, the woman managed to scatter the invaders. And so, the evil viruses moved on, looking for another body to take over.

That was just one group of evil viruses. The woman continued to work in a place infested with civilizations of them. Needless to say, there were countless more invasions by evil viruses before the woman would finally rest in peace.

Time went on, monotonously grinding its wheels round and round. Seasons came and went. The man continued with his life, still the pillar of his family. He didn't blank out as much anymore. The woman worked hard, even though her present was just clockwork as well. Why shouldn't he? After all, maybe the clockwork would suddenly be reset. Besides, his sister didn't seem to have her life running on clockwork just yet. Jobs came somewhat easier, although the clockwork in his head couldn't help but turn back sometimes and freeze there for hours at a time.

The woman was doing a little better as well. She still had to work in the brothel, yet when the man saw her, she seemed a bit flushed, and much happier.

She had met a nice man. That man lived in a richer part of the city, directly opposite the squalors in which the man and the woman lived. He came often enough to be considered a regular customer and spoke with her often. He treated much kinder than anyone else as well. A pink color would come to her sallow skin and her eyes lit up whenever she spoke of that man. She was in love.

On day in the fall, the woman ran into the man's house, her face brightened by a smile. She spoke quickly, too happy to notice that the man could hardly keep up with her. She was going to have a child, she said, and he didn't mind. She had been afraid that he would be upset and reject her, but instead, that had assured her that the two of them would be wed and that he would pay off her debts. Of course, the woman continued, she didn't want to take the offer. She was certain the debt nearly repaid and she felt uncomfortable having him repay something that wasn't even his to begin with. It was agreed that the child would remain with her father, and then soon, her mother would join them.

_But that manager is known for…_

_Can you tell right now?_

…_no._

_Good! Then she won't be able to either._

_How will you give birth? She'll notice if you begin to…_

_Oh, don't worry. I have that all planned out. He will make sure that I'm out of there for the last month or so._

_Well then, congratulations, I suppose._

The man was happy for her, truly, he was. Yet somehow, it didn't feel quite right. It felt like the woman was somehow defying fate again by finding happiness, and the man remembered what happened the last time the woman defied fate. The idea constantly nagged him in the back of his mind. This wasn't going to end well, he knew it.

And so it didn't. The child was born without much trouble; however, things began in path of steady decline after that. First off, that man had decided to finally kill a longtime adversary who had recently been manipulating him through blackmail. It wouldn't have been much of an incident, except that man was caught. He would have been sentenced to death, but he hightailed it out of town. The little child was left behind. The people who had gone to arrest him had found the house devoid of their target, although rather messy, for that man had gathered his essentials in a rush. All they had found was very young infant, crying as loudly as her lungs would allow in a lightless room. The men had no idea what to do with the infant, and so, they took it along with them.

The woman soon caught wind of that man's departure. She refused to believe that he was guilty and firmly told herself that he was framed. She would think that until the day she died.

She slipped out that day and ran again to the man's house. Again, she spoke so quickly that the man could hardly keep up with her. As the man took in what she was saying, he grew more sullen. That gut instinct had been right all along. Now more than ever, he feared going against what had to happen. The child would die, he thought. And yet…

_Please, please._

_I could look after her._

He didn't know what had possessed him to say that. Perhaps it was pity. He tried to throw off the feeling that he was now the one defying fate. The child would die anyways, he told himself, it wasn't as if he could provide for her. The woman was grateful to a point where she couldn't even find the words thank him. She just wept. The man went to collect the child from the men who had found her later that day and looked after her as best as he could. He blanked out even less to get a few more jobs to feed the extra mouth. His sister, who adored the child, worked harder as well, for she couldn't stand to see the child starve. As a result, beyond all of the man's expectations, the child lived. He couldn't help but feel somewhat uncomfortable. This child completely defied fate. Every second of her life was, as she wasn't even supposed to have been born. She should've died, had so many opportunities thrown at her to die, and yet she didn't. Her mother had only defied fate on certain things, but this child was practically turning her nose up at it. If her mother had been punished that much for defiance, the man couldn't imagine how much the child would be punished. Yes, he was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable to handle what seemed to him, a doomed child. Yet as time went on, he felt a great deal of affection her.

The child was an eager one. She wasn't plagued by the thoughts of punishment as the man was. She did as she liked and curiously studied everything she could. The world was her textbook, and it was better one than any one that the man had studied back when he had lived prestigiously, even though her 'world' was so very small. She knew nearly everyone in town whether it be the two brothers or the local doctor. On normal mornings, she would begin to study her world with the neighbor boy, and would return in the evening with a new tale to tell. On rarer mornings, she would stay within the little house, staring out the windows excitedly because the man had promised to take her to see her mother whenever he was to come home that day.

And this was the second part of the downhill turn for the woman. She had become a prisoner of the manager. There were no more 'free days' for visits. Every moment had to be spent in the brothel until the debt was paid, and apparently, the debt was nowhere near being paid, according to the manager. Uncoincidentally, I'm sure; the civilizations of evil viruses in the brothel suddenly grouped together and conquered the bodies of many of the women who worked there. About a quarter of the women fended off the attacks. The ones who were in debt too found out that their debts were also far from being repaid.

_I know my debt wasn't that large!_ One of the women had protested.

_You know? What do you know? Who do you think is keeping track of everything here?_

_I can quit!_

_Quit? Ha! Who do you think would take in someone like you? This is the only job you can do! No one wants to hire someone who wouldn't even agree to pay off a debt. Go ahead, quit! I would like to see how long it would take for you people to come back. You don't have anywhere left to go, remember?_

The woman may have fended off the evil viruses, but she couldn't completely protect herself. Already, a strange happiness was encroaching into her mind. It promised to set her free, but at the time, it was just whispering, and so, the woman didn't even notice it.

Thus, the woman mainly saw her daughter in secret for a few minutes at a time. The visits became more frequent as the daughter grew. The happiness spoke louder then, with a real happiness taunting her more often.

The man noticed this. Not completely, but in the back of his head, he knew something was off. But, fate told him that it was just time, and so, the man ignored it. He still feared fate.

The final downhill turn for the woman was so steep that it tossed her right into her grave. The manager finally found out about her daughter, and swore that she would kill 'it' the next time she saw 'it'. With even the last little scrapes of real happiness taken away, the woman succumbed to the happiness in her head. That happiness led her to murder the manager. It also led her to walk on thin ice. At least she died happy, even if it wasn't the genuine article.

Naturally, the child went a little crazy when she saw some villagers pull her mother's mostly frozen body from the river. She would've hopped right into the river and stopped turning her nose up at fate that moment had the villagers not restrained her. The child screamed and screamed, louder than even the time her father left.

The child spent the next few days inside the house, staring blankly out the window. Occasionally, something would light up in her eyes and a look of fear would appear on her face. She'd curl up and cover her ears, trying to block out an unseen force, crying for it to go away. Occasionally, the man would see a flash of metal in the girl's fingers; a tiny copper coin doodled over with dirt.

And then there was the man himself.

Regret.

So much regret.

It tore at him, snapping him out of his blank times more effectively than anything else. It forced him to look at things he wished he would never have to. It forced to look at that thing. It was an ugly thing, even though so many people found it beautiful. Truth was terribly hideous. Truth was a monster.

Truth was that if maybe he had decided to try harder, had made a little more money, or even taken on a debt, his mother, the former 'pillar' could have been saved.

Truth was that maybe if he could get his head unstuck from the past, he could support the family as a better 'pillar'.

Truth was that maybe if he had helped the woman with her debt, even if he had to force the help on her, even if it was just a little bit, the woman would've gotten out of her debt before all those 'coincidences' happened.

Truth was that maybe his fear for fate was just his excuse to not put himself in a difficult position.

_I won't let that fear stop me next time, I promise!_ He begged and begged, but the pain never would completely go away while he wore that life.

The girl soon recovered reasonably enough. She began to eat breakfast as usual and then go out to study the world. She smiled somewhat less, but there were still moments you could tell she was happy. She had also began to pick up the man's habit of blanking out, although they lasted much shorter periods of time and came only occasionally. The man wondered what she saw.

Time continued to turn; they continued to wear that life. The girl, now old enough to hold a job, became an errand runner for a doctor in a middle-classed part of town. It was a good enough job. The doctor had a reputation for being able to cure just about anything and so there was always a steady flow of customers.

The man tried to fight off his blank states. But they kept coming, latching onto him. The gears in head would turn back and lock into place, making images of his deceased parents reappear, both of them with their hands stretched out, reaching to grasp him, as though that could drag them back into that life. He'd pull away, only to find his parent already climbing up. They wanted to be back.

Regret.

So much regret.

Still so much left undone. _Help us_, they seemed to beg the man. But he knew he couldn't. How could he, when he could hardly help those still living among him? After much refusal and running, the gears in his head would unlock and turn forward once again.

—_der what they are. They're in weird patterns, but it's pretty._

…

_Are you listening?_

_Huh?_ The man had on that particular day, just began to have his gears move forward. The family had been eating fish, and staring into the mostly burned out eyes of the ones he had been eating, the man had began to wonder how it would look if the fish was human. He replaced the face of the fish with his father's, and turned the partially burnt off fins into stumps of arms. The mouth, opened in what appeared to be a 'stupid' look, was horrifying when exchanged with a human's. His appetite ran away.

_Big brother, did you hear anything?_

_Ah, sorry. _

_Again! And I thought you were getting better…_

_I am!_

_It's fine. _The girl broke in. _The doctor just gave me this today, _she said, holding up a thin book filled with drawings of plants. _He told me that if I could remember all the names in here, I would be able to help him more. But I'm confused, why are there these tiny pictures under the big ones? _She pointed at the tiny patterns of the brief paragraphs under the pictures.

_They're characters._

_Characters…?_

_Yes. They're…what you say, put into patterns so that people who can recognize them can understand what you're trying say without hearing you._

The child looked with renewed interest at the various patterns as though they were magic. _How do you recognize them? _

_You learn._

She turned to the sister and pointed at the patterns. _Can you read them?_

_Me? Well… some of it. But I'm sure brother knows more, he spent more time studying these things than I did._

_Really? _She turned back to the man, _Can you teach me how?_

_Ah, let's see. _He took the book and stared at the pages. It had been a long time since he had actually read anything. The lines and dashes of the characters seemed so familiar to him, and yet their exact meaning evaded him. There were some characters which he recognized, but not enough to string everything into an understandable sentence. He shook his head. _I'm afraid I wouldn't be much of a teacher with these kinds of books. If they were the simpler kind, I could probably teach you, but, it's been much too long since I've read these kinds._ The gears began shifting back again. _Too long ago…_

The girl was quiet and nibbled at her fish for a few minutes before speaking again. _I know! There's the lady! I bet she would know how. At least she seems to understand what the doctor is saying more than me…_

The man was no longer listening. He was in the past again, surrounded by his fellow classmates, eager as the rest of them to be dismissed to play on a fine summer's day. The boy who sat next to him was looking furtively at his paper to see how far he had gotten. He gave a quiet huff before quickening his pace. A bird outside the window chirped before flying away. It could go wherever it wished to.

_Brother?_

But the man wasn't there. He was still writing that composition. Now he had more to write, all about that bird and its mocking goodbye.

The girl would slowly learn to write as well. Nothing spectacular, but it did the job when needed. Each day, she would return to the house, telling the siblings of the new patterns that had become characters and of her days at work. When she had time, she would stoop outside the house with a stick, writing and rewriting in the dirt. She muttered each word as she wrote them. She would write her name, the names of plants, and any other small phrases she knew. When winter came and the dirt became too hard to write in, she would pile up the snow and write in that instead. Sometimes, the neighbor would stoop next to her, and attempt to write along with her.

Then one day, she didn't return with a new phrase.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

When asked why, she would simply reply, _The lady can't teach me anymore._

_Why don't you ask someone else? Like the doctor?_

_Because the lady can't teach me anymore. _

Winter settled in and snow began to fall endlessly. Going outside became a pain, as the wind cut straight through the few layers of clothing as though they weren't there at all. Inside wasn't much better. The walls of the house were paper thin anyways, and the fireplace small. Outside of the tiny circle of the fire, it would become as cold as it was outside.

One day, the girl asked, _Does everyone die?_

The man looked up, surprised. _Well, yes. _No use in trying to sweeten the truth. He knew firsthand how impossible that was.

_Will you die?_

_Someday._

_And me?_

_Yes._

The girl became silent for awhile. _Everyone always leaves at some point. Why are so many people leaving now?_

_What do you mean?_

_Everyone's going away, or about to. _The girl said, facing the window. _Is winter a dead time?_

He had no answer.

_At least everyone gets a burial,_ she said as she stared at the blanket of white spread farther than the eye could see. _Maybe that's why they all leave now. Is that why mommy decided to go in the winter? _

_Who knows._

The girl stared wordlessly out the window at the snowflakes that feel towards the ground, entombing everything and giving a resting place to everything. _They say that he died because he was buried in the snow, _she started suddenly, _But I think he was already dead. He must've been. Why would he have been buried if he wasn't?_

The man followed the girl's line of sight and his mind felt strangely at ease watching the snowfall turn everything white. _Who knows. _

Winter ended and the snow melted. Yet the bodies that were buried by it were never found.

_They returned to the earth._

A sense of stability was beginning to settle in their lives. Their lives weren't luxurious, but they weren't starving either. The man was finally able to control the times he blanked out enough to acquire a decent job as worker in a local restaurant in the middle-classed part of town. Every day, he would walk with his sister the girl to the doctor's office where she continued to work. The doctor was successful as ever, although he was no longer known as someone who could cure anything. He had begun to teach the girl words, and so, the girl would once again return everyday with a new phrase, which she would practice repeatedly with a stick in the dirt. His sister worked in the same restaurant as a cook.

Neither his sister nor the girl particularly _needed_ him to walk with them (the girl was already past childhood), but, he liked company as he walked. It helped in the (now) rare occurrence that he couldn't break out of his blank states.

One day, however, the girl informed him that she would be working a little later than usual. The two siblings went home without the girl that night. They had expected her to be late, but not as late as she had been. She returned with a terrified expression on her face. Her eyes were wide and the pupils dilated and shrunk sporadically, her jaw hung open. The man wondered if she had seen something she shouldn't have. His sister immediately went over and embraced the girl, who continued to stand there stiffly.

_What happened? _

_Th-there w-w-was…_

_There was what? _The man asked sharply.

_Demon, _she muttered. From her hand slipped two semi-circle fragments of what was a small, copper coin. One was still clean, the other encrusted with old dirt in a faded, jagged pattern.

The sister put her hand on the girl's forehead. _You don't have a fever, do you?_

The girl twisted away from her hand. _I know what I saw! I know what I saw…_ She shuddered. _Look!_ The girl thrust her other hand forward, showing a couple of silvery coins.

The sister gaped openly. _Wh-where did you get all this money?!_

_The demon._

_Come on,_ the man said, _You ought to go to sleep. I'm sure it has been a long day for you._

Sleep, however, would not come easily to the girl. The next morning, there were dark bags under her eyes. Yet, she seemed calmer. _I saw the demon last night._

The man was startled. _That's impossible._ There were no separate rooms in the house, apart from the small bathing area. Even that was just a tub in a corner boarded up. All three of them slept on mats in the same room they dined, worked, and relaxed. _We would have heard!_

The girl shrugged. _It's a demon._

_Maybe we should take her to see a doctor. I'm sure the one she works for wouldn't mind giving her a quick look. _

_I'm not sick! _she protested.

_You're hallucinating about—_

_It wasn't a hallucination! I swear I saw a demon!_

The man put a hand on his sister's shoulder. _It's fine, I believe her. You never what's out there._

_Brother…_

_Now then, it's just matter of how to keep that thing away._

_I don't think it would matter,_ the girl said slowly, _The exorcist would never be able to chase it off. Besides, I don't think it means any harm…well, it doesn't mean to kill me, anyways._

_Maybe we could find an exorcist in town…_

The girl's mouth twitched. _Really, I don't think it would do any good. _Then, before the man could say anything, she ran out the door. _I'm going to head to work now! I'll meet you at the restaurant later!_

_Wait!_ But the girl had already run off.

That night, the girl returned with the siblings at the usual time. In her hands, she clutched even more coins.

It continued, day after day, and the man began to wonder if the girl was stealing the money from someone. So on one particular day, he retired from his job early and walked to the doctor's building. He had planned to watch what the girl did there without disturbing, but he soon realized that the girl wasn't there.

He walked in and asked the doctor where the girl had gone. _Oh, her? She suddenly had to go somewhere, and I didn't have any work for her to do, so I let her go. _

_Do you know where she went?_

_No. _The doctor bent closer to his work, carefully measuring out the herbs needed for the mix.

Before the man left, he looked over at an empty bed reserved for patients in a partially closed off room. _So, she's gone completely too?_

The doctor stiffened. _Yes. _He accidently placed a few cloves to many of one herb into the mix.

Outside, the man continued to stroll casually. He was certain there was no chance of him going into a blank state here where the flies had little human flesh to feast upon. It was during this stroll that the man spotted the girl. She wasn't alone. Walking beside her was a young man. A young man of eccentric appearance and a towering build. Around him was the air of a confident noble as well as something the man couldn't quite place his finger on, but he didn't like it. There was something off about the young man that gave him the impression of someone who would never face civilizations of evil viruses with fear nor become a carcass whose eyes could only stare vacantly ahead.

_Ah! I didn't expect to see you out so early!_ The girl exclaimed when she saw the man.

_They let me off earlier, _the man said simply, _And you?_

_Err, the same as you._

_Really? _He turned to the young man and was startled to see a change. Somehow, the young man had rid himself of his confident demeanor and had instead taken on nervously happy one. However, he couldn't hide everything; the unnatural feeling he emitted continued to be present. _I don't believe we've met._

_We haven't! This is my first time meeting any of her family,_ the young man replied cheerfully, giving a high-spirited smile, which showed his strangely sharp teeth. He proceeded to introduce himself, and after exchanging a few comments with the man, he left. The man stared after him as he receded into the crowds and became what he was when the man first saw him.

_Who was that?_

After a moment's hesitation, the girl said, _No one in particular._

Of course, the man didn't believe that. Whenever he was able to, he would end his work a little sooner than usual and head out to look for the girl and the young man. He also asked a few people around the restaurant about them, and to his surprise, their answers were more or less the same.

_I don't know anything about a young man, but she's starting to become rather famous! They say she's a first-rate investigator. _

That piece of news was even more surprising. He could not believe it until one day, he heard her point out a criminal. He had stood there, in a nearly empty street in the richer area of town, a little distance from the girl, the young man and a few strangers. Afterwards, the people who had apparently employed her, pressed a couple of coins into the girl's hand. The girl spotted him when she turned. She jumped slightly and stuttered out some excuses. The man wasn't listening. He knew the girl did not have that kind of skill. When had a change occurred? For now, he only had one theory: ever since the young man appeared. Or was it the demon? It all blurred together until the man wasn't sure there was a difference.

Before he could even question him, the young man bid both of them goodbye and turned the corner. The man ran and looked over the corner, but all he saw was another empty street. Really, he doubted there was a difference.

_…So, I've heard you've been gaining quite a reputation lately._

_Ah, well, I suppose, _the girl said sheepishly.

_Is this where you've been getting all the extra money?_

The girl nodded.

_Well, still better than what I originally thought._

She flushed and turned indignantly to the man._ You didn't think that I was stealing did you?! _

_You have to admit, getting a job that pays as much as this is hard to come-by…uneducated folk like us._

_…But you're not uneducated._

_I might as well be._ The man turned towards the road that led to their home. _I won't question you too much today. For now, let's head home._

Although the man never tried to follow the girl and young man again, but he did begin to ask more about him. Her answers were often vague, leaving him with something that could hardly be called knowledge. _Oh, I just bumped into him awhile ago_, she would answer when he asked how she met the young man. Question after question, yet the fog that obscured his knowledge of the young man remained. The man wasn't sure if he liked the young man at all. True, the few times they did converse, the young man had been extremely pleasant. Pleasant to the point of being cloying. It was though the young man had only met people who only knew how to agree and encourage another person. Of course, those types of people were so sickeningly supportive and sweet that they were really pushing you towards whatever direction they wanted you to go. The man felt himself being pushed into an area of thicker and thicker fog. Dimly, however, he could still see a vague form of the young man's true form through the fog, and it was monstrous. Part of the man didn't want to see it revealed.

It was strange. Even though he knew that the young man was a dangerous being whom the girl should be kept away from, the man's acknowledgement that the young man was a deadly enemy who wished to continue using the girl kept _him_ from keeping the girl away. He feared the young man enough to refrain from provoking him, and he barely even knew why.

Already, he was regretting it, and nothing terrible worth mentioning had happened. Somehow, he had the idea that the young man would cause the girl's death.

That was a ridiculous idea. The young man didn't cause the girl's death, a stranger did, although by accident. That accident stole away the girl's life during the dead season.

The girl took the first step off the path of the living when the doctor announced that he been requested to work in another town for the winter and that he had accepted. Another doctor would take over for him and the girl would not have to work again until the dead season ended. The girl didn't mind too much; there was a steady income from her 'side-job' as an investigator. In fact, she was considering quitting her job at the doctor's office, but decided against it because of the uncertainties surrounding how long she would have to play investigator.

She made her final delivery on the day that the doctor left. It was a package of medications to a woman who was suffering from pneumonia.

The package was raw and unprepared for direct treatment, so, the family of that woman requested that the girl prepare the medication. The girl had a basic idea of the process and agreed to do so. The members of that family stayed more or less away from that woman, so the pneumonia civilization had little chance to spread their territory. Then the girl came to treat that woman. Seizing the opportunity, some of the civilization charged into the girl's body as that woman coughed and coughed.

At first, the viruses that had spread over to the girl could do little but cause her to sneeze or give her a slight fever. In fact, the girl brushed it off and supposed that the viruses would surrender eventually. However, this was the dead season, and the girl who continued to go out in the bitter cold gave the viruses more strength; enough to gradually do more damage to her body.

The man soon noticed how the girl was becoming more tired easily and often short of breath. He made her stay within the house and called for the doctor. The doctor came and left some medication for her to use as weapons against the evil viruses. No one was particularly anxious; the girl seemed to be able to keep the evil viruses at bay well enough. So, the man and his sister simply continued to give the girl the medication. The viruses tried to spread to them as well, but both of the siblings were vigilant and managed to force out the evil viruses before there was substantial damage.

Within the girl's body, the evil viruses began to wage war with brilliant tactics. First, they managed to break deep enough into the girl to flood her lungs with liquid. With this, the girl's defenses weakened greatly and the evil viruses were able to break farther and farther into the girl.

The siblings were alarmed. The sister called over the doctor again, but by this time, the doctor told them that he could do nothing. There was no way he knew of to enable the girl to breathe. There was only one thing that the man and his sister could do; watch. Still, his sister rushed about, trying everything from different medications to steaming the entire room. The man only watched and slipped into his old blank states as he looked on at the swarms of viruses attacking a body. They nearly completely covered the body in droves of tiny dots, each one doing its job to help destroy the body. The body tried to fight back, but there just wasn't enough oxygen to go around. Deprived, the body's army was starving and weak.

While his sister was gone the next day for more herbs, the man continued to watch the virus' onslaught. He went out of his blank state once. He wasn't quite sure if he had imagined it, but he thought he saw a flash of blue, although it wasn't there once his eyes came completely back into focus. The body was replaced by the girl who was breathing in short, raspy gasps. She seemed to be crying.

The man wasn't sure what to do. Lying wouldn't help one bit as the girl knew what was going to come. He simply patted her head and continued to wait for his sister's return.

The evil viruses vanquished her body's army later that day. With nothing else to stop them, the viruses marched right into the girl's heart and stilled it just as it had stilled the man's mother.

The sister broke down on the floor and wept with sobs that shook her entire body. _It was too soon, too soon…_she kept muttering.

The man didn't weep, or rather, he couldn't. He was too shocked to do anything but stare. It wasn't a body he stared at, it was the girl.

Over the girl hung truth, rearing its ugly head and prepared to show the man even more things he didn't want to know.

Truth was that maybe if he had noticed earlier, the girl wouldn't have gotten to such a critical state and die.

Truth was that he had a choice to do something, but he didn't. Again.

Regret.

So much regret.

So much left unsaid.

So much left undone.

And there would never be a chance to do it again.

* * *

Sasazuka eyes shot open. As he sat up, he rubbed at the back of his head. The feeling of excitement he had before he fell asleep was gone and replaced by something like a heavy weight. Regret? No, that couldn't be. He wasn't regretting anything right now; he was doing everything he could. He had even had to get rather rough with a person who had refused to help his cause. Just a few good knocks to a person's head, cut off their oxygen supply, and it was amazing what would come out of people's mouths. He glanced at his cellphone, checking to see if there was any more new information.

Just another text message from Ishigaki; tenth one that day, in fact. _Wahh! Sempai, whr r u?! My fish died cuz ur nt here to giv thm oxygen! And that Rookie is slacking off sooooo much, we shld make her penalty from the fshing game waaaaaay~ worse. O yah, that shortie is getting kinda pissed off that you went AWOL—_delete. It would do no good to let his phone clutter up with useless things.

The sun was beginning to rise. He lit a cigarette and drew a few deep breaths from it before grabbing the necessary items and heading out the door.

If Ryuuichi wasn't lying, it would begin soon. So very much to do before everything was set there. He drew again from the cigarette. The excitement was returning. Of course it was, wasn't this what he had been waiting for ten years now? He had told nobody, not even Yako…or Neuro, even though he had said he would. It was as well, this was his personal problem after all, and he would solve it himself.

_One day, you're going to miss something important because you always have your head stuck in the past._

Sasazuka froze. Where had he heard that before? It sounded like Mamori, so it must've been some time ago now. Yet he couldn't quite recall the exact moment.

He drew again and continued walking. It was all right. What could he possibly be missing? It was a good plan he made with a clear head, and nothing would go wrong.

Or so the surface of his mind told him.


	4. Snow

---Third Cycle: Snow---

A certain little boy's first taste of the world consisted of icy cold. The little house in which he was birthed in was a flimsy one, hardly able to even keep the inside temperature five degrees warmer than the outside. He was born in the winter, or the "dead season", as a girl he met later during that life called it. He would refer to it as the dead season too. You see, his mother was a frail woman, already rather old as well. The childbirth did not go smoothly for her. In fact, she removed her life that day, and the doctor could do nothing to stop her.

The little boy had a brother. The brother was much older than he was and had been born when the mother had still been young. During that year's dead season, most of his family took off their lives at the time. First, his father had through injuries and infection. His mother followed suit as her body couldn't handle the burden of bringing another child into the world. His little brother almost did as well, even though he had just arrived. Like a fickle child who decided he didn't like his new clothes, he had half-removed them before his big brother forced them back onto him. His brother didn't want to allow the last member of his family to search for a new life before he was ready to and clung to his little brother's life desperately. Fortunately, the doctor could do something about the little brother, and so, the boy lived.

The elder brother was now the one who had to provide for the little child. It was a case even worse than his neighbor's, in which at least the neighbor's little sister was just about old enough to work. Or at least is was worse until his neighbor took in another child no older than his own little brother.

He did the best he could to make sure that the little boy would grow up to be healthy. During spring and summer, he would take his brother out with him into the field and set him nearby while he tended to the lands. There would be a few accidents, such as when the little brother would get behind him without him noticing and would then nearly get struck with a hoe swung back to prepare for the next strike onto the earth. If he were to go into the town's marketplace, the brother would likewise go as well via a basket filled with the softer goods. There, the elder brother would sell the little wares he could to the shopkeepers or any passerby who wished to purchase them. Most of what the elder produced would go right into their stomachs, but the ones he did sell provided a decent enough income other necessities.

As the little brother grew older, he too began to help with the easier things, such as carrying light tools. He also began to wander outside of the confines of his home and into the neighbors' area or into town without his brother. The elder was worried about him, but there he could do little to prevent it. If he caught the younger one at one point in time, then he would just try again another. After a certain point, the elder simply gave up. The places he wandered to were safe enough anyways. He would often just run around with the girl who lived nearby.

The two would explore every bit of the town and look at anything that interested them. Occasionally, they would even wander into the richer district of the town. Every day when the younger returned, he would spin out a tale of what he had been doing that day. Sometimes it would be about the blind girl who always sat in her room, listening to a bird sing away, others about the rich, privileged boy who would never cease complaining about how his parents smothered him with too much attention. Whatever it was about, the boy would spin and spin his yarns for hours at a time until his brother had to cut them short and put him to bed.

Then the spinner wanted to see someone else spin.

_Big brother, I can't sleep._

_Why not? You haven't stopped running or talking the whole day._

_You know what I mean! I need a story first!_

_It's late._

_Big brother!_

_Let me sleep. It's been a long day._

_Story! Story!_

The elder sighed. _Fine, fine. How about I tell you about the day you were born?_

_The day I was born? What's so great about _that_? _

_You wanted a story, so be quiet and listen. _Of course, the day that the younger brother was born wasn't really quite exciting, but the elder knew how to spin it so that yarn would have the most interesting patterns.

_It was a snowy day. _True.

_So snowy that the snow even blanketed this house in which you were born. Not a spot of this place was free from the stuff. _True enough; great amounts of snow had indeed been indoors.

_How did all the snow come indoors? Well, you see, a yuki-onna had wandered in that day. _Purposeful lie.

_With our doors unlocked and everyone so concerned with mother, no one paid any attention to her. We should've though, we should've. She blew one icy breath, and just as you came out, the yuki-onna had frozen mother solid! _

The younger brother stiffened. _Why?_

_Who knows? Maybe the yuki-onna just felt like it._

_I wish I could freeze it._

_I don't think freezing a yuki-onna would do anything but help it._

_Melt it then! _the younger brother said hotly.

_Heh heh, hate it already?_

_Of course! It killed mother!_

The elder simply smiled. It was rather amusing to see his brother hate something he had made up.

…_hey, big brother._

_Hmm?_

_How come I lived?_

_What do you mean?_

_The yuki-onna froze mother, right? Didn't she freeze me too? And you and the doctor! _

_Ahh, well…you see, the yuki-onna took pity on you. You were just a baby, and I suppose it had some heart in it, enough to spare you. As for the doctor and I, the yuki-onna probably realized that without us alive to help you, you would've died anyways._

The younger brother seemed to sag, the heat that bore him up dissipated. _It pitied me?_

_Mmhmm._

_It let me live._

_Yes already. Now go to sleep._

_Brother._

_I said go to sleep!_

_But brother, is the yuki-onna going to stop pitying me? Is it going to take you away later?_

…_just go to sleep._

_Good night._

The next day, the boy went with the girl, who was planning to visit her mother, into town. As the two children walked, the little brother told the girl of the story.

_Really? _the girl said doubtfully.

_Of course! _the boy puffed out his chest, My_ big brother would never lie!_

_Oh, I'm not saying he was lying, just—_

_Hellooo! _

Both of the children jumped. Looking down on them from a tree was a young girl, not much older than they were. That girl was dressed finely in clothes of a white color, which seemed to take in a little bit of all the color around it. That girl smiled brightly before sliding off the tree branch in one fluid movement. Behind her, a servant stood quietly.

_You again…_the boy grumbled.

Immediately, that girl's face shifted. The mouth turned into a small sneer, one eyebrow raised, and her eyes took on a flicker of annoyance; it was a perfect reflection of the boy's expression. _You think I'm any happier seeing _you_ again?_ she replied, tone matching the boy's exactly.

_Come on, _the girl tugged nervously at the boy's sleeve, _We might as well just leave._

That girl's expression changed again. All the muscles on her face drooped, dragging the eyebrows down with it, and the mouth drew inward, just slightly quivering. _Yes, _she said, imitating the girl's tone, _If we stay any longer, she'll bite off our heads for sure! _A grin appeared on that girl's face again and she barked out her laughs.

The boy glared at her, already moving away. _Leave us alone!_

That girl's face followed suit. _You're bothering me! _she mimicked before laughing loudly once again.

As the two children walked farther and farther from that girl, the boy muttered, _What a freak._

…_she scares me. A lot._

_Ha! She may be annoying to me, but definitely not scary!_

The girl stopped to give the boy a skeptical look.

…_fine, maybe a little. _

_Mmhmm._

_A lot, a lot!_

_That's more like it._

The boy suddenly gave a cry. The girl turned. _What?_

The boy looked down and huffed, embarrassed by his sudden outburst. _Just a stupid cat._ He muttered, kicking at the cat, hoping to get it off his leg.

_Aww, how cute._

_Get it off me! _he said, shaking his leg vigorously.

_But it likes you._

_Bah! _He stooped and pulled the cat up by its scruff. _Well…I guess it would make a good dinner._

_Dinner!?_

_What? We don't have a lot of meat at home. Then again, it's awfully scrawny, _he commented.

The boy never did eat the cat. His brother wouldn't hear of it.

_What? Why not! _

_Just look into its eyes! _The elder said, holding the cat close to his brother's face. _How could you eat this?_

_I'm hungry, that's how!_

The elder held the cat protectively against his chest. _We're not eating it. Now then, how about something to eat? You must be hungry, yes you are._

_Brother!_

The cat often strayed from the house, but it always returned. It was fed small scraps, which when coupled with the food that it hunted down itself, changed the cat from scrawny to plump. Occasionally, it would even bring back a dead fish, almost as if in payment for the scraps.

Such were the happy seasons of the living. Yet the dead season must come, led by yuki-onna's who mercilessly blew their cold all over the earth. The dead season would claim a life that year, that life. Not the boy's, not yet, but someone he vaguely knew.

It was a mother. The girl's mother. That mother was frozen stiff.

He had caught a glimpse of her as some men carried the body away. The skin was blue and white, every tint of red drained out. Her black hair seemed even darker against the skin. That mother didn't look very unhappy; her mouth was turned up in an unmistakable smile. He wondered if his own mother had looked like that when she died.

The men said that she had accidentally walked into an area of thin ice, but the boy thought otherwise. He could picture it, a yuki-onna floating across to the frozen river. The yuki-onna wasn't in the mood to kill someone the normal way. Instead, it drew patterns all over the ice, swirls and dots that crossed each other elaborately; it drew that mother closer. Then, as that mother came to see the details on the ice, her human body would be too heavy for the ice and fall through. Yes, he could picture it, down to the pleased smile on its pale, pale face.

The girl was screaming as the men restrained her. She wanted to join her mother. The boy wondered if the yuki-onna would take pity and save her if she did go into the river.

For days after that, the girl refused to leave her house. The boy left her alone, even if he did see her, he didn't know what he could say. True, he hated the yuki-onna for killing the mother he never knew, yet could he really relate with the girl who had the mother she had known killed by the yuki-onna?

The girl came out soon enough curious as ever. There was no smile, and sometimes the boy wondered if she had even heard what he said, but the patterns of the times before that death began to start again. Although neither of them wandered near where the girl's mother had worked ever again.

The pattern started to crumble again when both of them were old enough to work. The boy decided to tend to his lands while the elder began to attempt finding a job with better income. The girl worked for the local doctor.

The boy's house was empty now—except for him and occasionally the cat—during the days, as his brother was always out. The neighbor's house was empty too. As he tended to the little bit of farmland around his home, there was often nothing but silence.

Even during the times that the girl had left her work before the sun set, there were very few times they would go exploring the town as they used to. Instead, the girl would often crouch in front of her house with a stick hand, drawing strange little pictures into the dirt. He occasionally tried to copy her, and then she would tell him that such and such meant this or that, but he could never understand how a few scribbles could mean a word. Doggedly, he persisted, but it was no use. His brother quietly watched him as he tried to reproduce the scribbles the girl had showed him.

Then one day, as snow just began to cover the land, his elder brother bumped into one of the richest men in town.

No one knew exactly how that man had become so rich, but no one doubted that involved illicit means. Yet, that man himself was very childish. He even had the appearance of an adult who didn't quite grow up with round cheeks and a dopey smile.

He also loved toys. Not just children's toys, but human toys. He found them so very amusing and it was fun for him to think up of new ways to play with them. He had a new idea the moment he decided on his new toy.

It was a very poor looking toy, scraggly and dirty. It looked second hand, but it had to be hardworking; desperate for a job actually. Perfect for his little idea.

That toy was the elder brother.

_I-I'm so sorry, I didn't see you—!_

_No worries, no worries. _That man pretended to study the elder brother. _Say, I'm in need of some help around my estate, and you look like a smart enough fellow. How would like to work in my household?_

_In your household?! _The elder grew visibly excited, his wish for a well-paying job seemed about to come true.

_Yes, yes. I need…uh, someone to tend to lovely garden. It looks so disgustingly yellow right now. Why, I'll even give you a small payment in advance! _With that, he dropped a few golden coins in the elder's hands.

_Thank you, sir! I would be happy to work—_

_Oh yes, by the way. I know that this has nothing to do with your job, but would you mind helping me look for a little piece of jade I dropped? It was from my wife, you see. We'll count finding it as an initiation, how does that sound?_

_Of course!_

_Wonderful! Now just follow me; I do believe I know the basic area where I dropped it._

The 'basic area' was inside an old abandoned building. _I've always enjoyed to look around the places people don't usually go, you see, _that man explained, _You never what you can find. I'm certain that I dropped it in here._

_Oh. _The elder brother was uncomfortable. The building didn't seem safe at all. The roof was in shambles, letting thin rays of light inside. The wood, although once hardy and strong, was now weak and eroded from years of neglect. The windows could hardly even be called windows anymore and the door in hung at an angle. Every once in a while, a plop of snow would fall onto the ground. Besides, just how could he find a tiny little piece of jade in such a large building. Then he remembered his younger brother. This man was rich, working even a small job for him would mean a steady income. It was a good chance. _I have to._

And so the elder brother began to search.

_You probably already know where my estate is. Once you find the jade, do go there so that you can begin your real duties._

Until the sun set, the elder brother searched. But he found nothing. Finally, he walked back home.

His younger brother ran up to him immediately, covered with grime and oh so pale from the cold. _Big brother! Where were you? I'm starving!_

_Don't complain, _he replied, patting the younger's head, _I have good news._

_Good news? _The younger repeated, calming down.

_Mhmm, I ran into a man who owns the huge estates on the other side of town._

_And?_

_He offered me a job!_

_Then that would mean…!_

_You'll learn what the scribbles mean yet. I'll just have to find that jade for him, and the job will be mine._

_…jade?_

The elder explained his task and the old building to the younger. _Good luck!_

In its corner, the cat briefly looked up from its scraps and purred.

Day after day that dead season, the elder brother searched for the tiny piece of jade whenever he could. Day after day that dead season, the elder brother returned to his home with nothing but nearly frozen fingers from digging in the snow.

At home, he was absent-minded, his mind still in that old building, searching everywhere.

A snowstorm halted his search efforts.

_A-a lot of yuki-onna's must've w-worked to make this storm._

_Mmm. _The elder borther was worried. Not about the condition that he and his brother were in (almost freezing from lack of protection from the winds and snow), but about the old building. The drafts of snow must be burying everything. His task had become harder.

Then again, there was no chance that he could've succeeded anyways.

When the snowstorm stopped a few days later, the elder brother's first thought was to go to the old building, but then he realized that there was no more food in the house and decided to head into the marketplace instead.

That day, the younger brother decided to do something different from what he usually did. Instead of remaining at home, he headed out to the old building. The cat followed him.

_What? Following me around now?_

The cat looked up at him before turning back forward.

_Ah, oh well. This is going to be a surprise for brother! I'm sure I can find that jade._

On his way to the old building, he passed by the girl who was running an errand, and waved. Soon, he stood at the doorway of the building. The roof was piled high with snow. _Stay here! _he commanded the cat. The cat looked indignant, but didn't follow the boy into the building. Instead, it prowled around in the nearby area. The boy waded through the snow and began to dig.

But he would never find it. There was no jade in the first place. It was all something that that man set up to play with his 'toy'.

The elder brother would realize this as he wandered around the marketplace. He had been purchasing some cheap packages of dried meat when he heard that man's jolly laughter somewhere behind him.

_Hahaha, that fool is still looking! _He didn't notice that the elder brother was within earshot.

_Oh really? _It was a new voice, a man who was walking with him.

_You bet! I just had to tell him I would employ him if he found this piece of jade for me in that old building and that idiot goes off there every day to look! He still hasn't stopped yet. Can you believe it?_

_And does this jade exist?_

_Of course not! _The two men laughed together.

The elder brother stood rigidly, spots of red dotting his cheeks. He burned to run after that man and strike him. His fist clenched tightly. _Calm down, calm down, _he thought to himself, gritting his teeth, _Don't think about that. I won't do any good to go after him. It would bring more trouble than it's worth._ For the duration of his walk home, the elder brother stared sullenly at the ground, feeling foolish for hoping that the employment would come true.

The younger brother continued to dig with snow up to his knees. The feeling had gone from his hands about an hour before, but he persistently continued to search every inch of the building.

Then the roof collapsed. From the storm summoned by yuki-onnas the day before, snow piled high onto the already weak roof. The rotting wooden beams finally gave out. It creaked as the beams began to break, but the younger brother, deep within the building and too engrossed in his tiring search didn't notice.

An icy blanket smothered the younger brother. So tightly, he could hardly breathe. He couldn't move. The blanket was a lead weight.

_Yuki-onna…_

_Yuki-onna…_

_Will you let me live this time too?_

As the elder brother headed back home, he was downcast as well as angry. He couldn't bear to tell his younger brother the truth. How could he just raise his hopes and then bring them back down again? He stood stiffly at the front of the door, not wanting to enter. Then it occurred to him. His little brother always noticed when he came within sight and would rush out to meet him. Yet at that time, the house was strangely quiet. Quickly, he opened the door. It was empty inside; not even the cat was there.

Frantically, the elder brother called his name several times. Each time he expected to see his little brother peak his head out from behind a window or something of the sort, but each time, there was nothing. As he tried to calm down and think logically, he saw the girl and the two siblings from the nearby house heading home. Immediately, he ran over.

_Have you seen my brother?_

_Eh, he's not home?_

_No._

_I saw him earlier,_ the girl said, _But I don't know where he was going._

_Do you at least remember the direction?_

_Well, the road he was taking would eventually lead to that old part of town, you know, the part that no one lives in anymore. I wonder why he went there…_

The elder brother grimaced. He knew why. _Thank you. _

_Idiot, _he muttered as he ran. He wondered how long he had already been there, searching for something that was never there in the first place.

The elder brother was now searching for something that didn't exist anymore.

He returned to the area where the old building had once stood, but it was just a pile of snow-covered wood with more snow slowly drifting onto it. The elder brother stared in horror. Several times, he called his brother's name, hoping that somehow, his idea was wrong.

But it was right. The elder caught sight of another living thing in the area. It was the cat, pawing away near the middle of the pile.

He ran back towards the inhabited area of the town, seeking help from the first people he saw. Yet even with their help, he couldn't find what he had looked for all this time. What he looked for didn't exist anymore. The cat had known where the last trace of what searched for was, but that was it. There was only a useless lump that couldn't do anything left. A cold thing, frozen over and pale, pale white. That was all there was.

The elder knew that he could never find it again, but he clung to what it had left behind. A little urge began to grow into a big one, and his hate flowered beautifully. He decided he would take revenge after all. Somehow or the other, someday, he would make that man lose. Everything if he could, at least something if he couldn't.

Someday.

Someday.

* * *

Yukinori's first taste of the waking world one morning was a cat's tongue. He spluttered and sat up straight on the chair in which he had fallen asleep. The jacket that covered him fell to the floor. "Damn cat," he grumbled, trying to push it off his chest. Sensing some danger, the cat jumped onto the floor where it resumed giving its affections by rubbing itself against Yukinori's leg. "Great, fur," he said as he picked his jacket up, "I could do so much more in the time I spend cleaning up this stuff," be brushed at the jacket, " 'Oh, there's no furniture that they can claw up. We can wash it with lemon soap.' Che, it would've been so much easier if we just made a stew of you like I wanted to." The cat simply purred. "I don't see why brother even wanted you keep you pests."

"Yuki! Don't say that," Hisanori broke in. The cat immediately ran up to him, "You might hurt her feelings, isn't that right? Why don't I give you a bath today with lemon-scented soap? Heh heh heh…"

"Brother! You can't be serious. We've got better things to do than bathe a cat!" he snatched a few papers from the desk, "The company who promised to supply us with the guns decided to withdraw _and_ rat out on our organ dealers! And the diamond company seems hesitant—"

"Relax, relax, we'll take care of it all. But if we just go in all hot-headed like how you are now, it won't do any good. Our business requires some careful treading. Besides, we have to take care of our adorable little pets don't we?"

"Brother!"


	5. Pride

A/N: This turned out longer than intended. Then again, this entire story is turning out longer than I intended. Pfft, this would've been one ridiculously long oneshot.

---Fourth Cycle: Pride---

Pride is a horrible thing. A little is necessary, but too much is a poison which corrupts a person. There was a man then that was very proud. Yes, so very proud. He was a genius among geniuses for his time and respected none. Whether it be a person on the street or the emperor, that man looked up to no one. He also had a daughter.

She was a nice enough person, quite pretty as well, although she had little suitors; her personality was very eccentric to say the least. She unnerved many people having inherited her father's brain and the vast amounts of knowledge to go with it, 'strange' indeed for that life. There was nothing that she wouldn't say if she thought of it. Many people shook their heads at her, _poor girl, never did get taught properly by her mother. And with a father like _that_, you can't really expect her turn out quite right. _There few others who could influence her; she had few peers. A child who would play with her was a rarity; a fact compounded partly by her father's prideful reputation and the daughter's own rumors. She learned to entertain herself instead. Sometimes it would be exploring the world and others making a plethora of random objects out of folded paper. That never failed to entertain her so long as the paper supply lasted.

Her father was proud of her, and the fact that she was _his_ daughter added that pride onto his already abundant amount. Fate disliked the father. He was too proud and snubbed even it, and so, it wished to get back at the father when the time was right. It had a nice plan. The father didn't know it, but his pride was twisting into a heavy chained that linked him to disaster, and the more he piled upon it, the stronger their links grew. Disaster's base wasn't in that life, but reached over the separate lifes to attach itself onto the correct one. His inexperience with respect would be his downfall then, with him unable to resist anything at all for the first person he respected. Fate played a bit that life too, but the worst was yet to come.

Strangely enough, the person who took the brunt of the disasters was the daughter. Although, perhaps seeing one of the few people he actually cared for suffering would be more torturous.

At some point, the daughter's vast stores of knowledge began to deplete, slowly but surely, her mind was going. A strange disease was thieving away every treasure it could lay its hands on. Greedily, it took away words, stories, facts, and eventually, it broke even deeper into the daughter's stores to begin stealing pieces of her memory.

The father searched desperately for a solution. The few people he asked all answered similarly: there was doctor in a nearby town that was said to have never failed in curing any disease.

Although rather skeptical, the man quickly made arrangements and headed for that town. The doctor's office wasn't anything impressive, even its size was fairly small. The doctor himself was a strange looking man with a hook nose and sharp eyes that gave the impression of evil plots spinning in his head. He walked with a stoop, although he was young still, and with a constant air of condensation that he might not have even been aware of. Those who spoke to him would say he always sounded tired. The kinder ones would also say that he never tried to skip over the truth, no matter how bad; the others that he was sarcastic and detached, no matter how bad. No one would say that he made a good first impression.

Yet, there was no doubt he was an able doctor, even the man had to concede to that after the first meeting, which had not gone quite as he had hoped it to. As she always had, the daughter didn't bother to care about what she said.

_You're much more normal than I thought you'd be. From what everyone else has said, I was expecting you to be something like a youkai._

_Uhh…_ The man glanced at his daughter, maybe he should've at least taught her to _hold her tongue_ at inopportune times.

The doctor looked up briefly from his writing before chuckling humorlessly. _Thanks, it's good to know what my other patients think of me._

_It must be because of your appearance; you have this naturally evil look to you. _Her father's face fell.

_Well then, I apologize if it disturbs you, _the doctor replied dryly.

_Oh, it doesn't at all, _she said, completely unperturbed, _I just suppose that you're rather strange; you must be. You have the same eccentric air as my dad, which is really good; my dad could use some more friends…_

The man was rather embarrassed, while the doctor seemed truly amused. _Oh? So is it your belief that your father is unable to befriend anyone, how should I say this, 'normal'?_

_I wouldn't say that their 'normal', nobody is, but their general air is different. It's not impossible to befriend them, but eccentric airs tend to get along with eccentric airs. I guess you could say that his air is just the type that has a hard time drawing in other airs; most of them are repelled, actually. _

The doctor really did laugh this time. _I would say that you're rather eccentric yourself._

_That's true; if my dad doesn't scare people off, I do._

_Is that so?_

After speaking with the daughter several more times, the doctor would admit that he could see how she was able to unnerve so many. He himself wasn't quite sure what to make of her and was often taken aback by the things she did. There was a matter-of-factness and bluntness in which she said everything that those who were insulted by her found unbecoming for a young woman. But she shrugged it all off, obstinately refusing to change.

_I will lose everything; wealth, knowledge, status; before I lose my 'self'._

_Self?_

_It is the only thing that keeps a human from becoming an empty husk after all. _

_That's wonderful, but can you get down from there? It's time for the checkup._

_Eh? But you said you needed some more ginkgo leaves…_

_Yes, but I didn't mean for you to climb a tree and get them. _

_But the best ones can't be reached from the ground!_

_I have a provider._

_Why get it from a provider if there's perfectly good materials right here? Time is precious._

_That's why I hired an errand boy._

_Boy? That doesn't look like a boy._

Said 'errand boy' was actually a little girl dressed in shabby clothes that were much too big for her and patched so much, no one could tell which piece of it was the original. She smiled shyly. The daughter smiled back and slid down from the branch, using the doctor's shoulder to steady herself as she landed.

_Well, I suppose I could be wrong; there are some very feminine looking males in the world, especially young ones._

The girl blinked, and then laughed nervously. _N-no, I'm a girl._

_Oh good! Most of the people I've met have been men; it'll be a nice change of pace._

_Umm…_

_Let's go, _the doctor pulled the daughter along, _I think she might be frightened of you already._

_Frightened? What's there to be afraid of?_

Within the building, the doctor handed the girl a few packages, each marked with a name. _Here, deliver these to the families specified._

The girl stared.

_What?_

_Err, I don't think she can read it. Right? _The girl nodded. _See!_

The doctor rattled off the names of customers. _Do you know where to go now? _The girl nodded again and ran off. _Huh, I should've asked whether or not she was literate. Well, I suppose that can be taught. Anyways…_

The doctor didn't mind the daughter, in fact, he enjoyed her company. She had no reserves about speaking to him and did so freely. There was no quiet fear or reverence as though he were some sort of monster or divine healer; he had no idea how the rumors of his treatments being unfailing had gotten around, although he couldn't remember the last time he had failed. The doctor was proud of this fact and felt confident that he would be able to find a treatment for her. Yet the normal treatments weren't working. Ginkgo leaves, which he had seen help slow the memory loss in the elders he prescribed it to, had no effects. He tried mixing different herbs he believed would help, only to have them fail. He couldn't help but notice that as time went by, she would begin to pause when speaking, as though she wasn't sure of what words to use.

The mysterious thief was a skillful one. It couldn't be caught, it couldn't be stopped. No matter what defenses the doctor tried to put up, the thief would slip right through and again enter the precious vault where he filled his sack with rich knowledge. The thief didn't steal everything in one trip, the thief stole sack by sack, bit by bit, as though taunting to those who could not stop it.

A little more than a year after the thieving had began; the daughter practically lived in the clinic. The time she spent in it awake was nearly more than she spent at her home. Her presence had become familiar, blending in with the rest of the atmosphere that surrounded there until it become so that her lack of presence made the building where the doctor had once spent so much time alone in feel empty. Her father would come on occasion, although, despite the daughter's previous hopes, he and the doctor didn't go beyond acquaintances.

The daughter hummed to herself one day as she walked into the clinic and took to her then customary place in the chair by the window overlooking a small grove of trees, planted years and years ago by foreigners.

The doctor glanced at her briefly before turning back to his current patient, a middle aged man who wanted medicine for his coughs. He sat there puffing from his pipe, sending out enough smoke to make the doctor want to cough himself.

_You're late._

_Oh, I got a bit…lost on the way here, that's all, _she said lightly.

He froze. _Lost?_

But the daughter had already turned away, talking the girl instead. _Eh? What do you need to learn all this for? _she asked as she flipped through the pages of a book.

_He said it would be helpful, _the girl gestured to the doctor.

_Really now, _the daughter said to him as though the first conversation never happened, _This is pretty advanced. Does she really need to know all this, or are you planning to train her as your apprentice?_

_Some of it would be helpful…_he muttered absently.

_So can you teach me? _the girl asked hopefully.

_I don't see why not. Let's see…_

The doctor continued to stare curiously at the daughter. How could she lose her way in this city, after living in it for so long already?

_Err, _the patient stared at the medicine being prepared, _Look, I know I'm just a pathetic old man, but are you sure you're supposed to add that much of the brown gunk in there? It's starting to look like mud. Just asking._

_Huh? Oh, sorry about that. _He quickly stopped pouring and added in the other ingredients to compensate.

_You should know how to write your own name, _he heard the daughter say, _Here, there is a… specific order of strokes. For your name, it's a short line towards the left, then another one downwards… _The girl watched, absorbed. She repeated the directions to herself and her fingers twitched at her sides, imitating the strokes. _There! Why don't you try? _The girl took the small brush from the daughter's hands and bent over the rag they were practicing on, her face screwed in concentration.

_This doesn't look right, _the girl muttered as she looked over her work.

_It's fine… this is first try, isn't it? You'll need more practice before you can write things well. Here, you added an extra stroke, and here, it's supposed to be a short dash, not a long curve. Go on, write it again. _The girl repeated the strokes several more times before finally smiling. _See? That's much better. You'll need to… practice on your own too, of course. Now, let's go on to the numbers…_

The patient had left (still puffing away on his stifling pipe) long before the daughter had finished teaching the girl. The doctor glanced over occasionally as he worked. The girl's writings were shaky and stiff, but they improved a bit each time.

_I think that should do for a first lesson. _The girl looked up, disappointed. _Relax, you'll learn more tomorrow. You can't just expect to know everything after a single lesson._ Slightly mollified, the girl turned back to writing, repeating the numbers and simple phrases over and over again.

_I hope you weren't planning to send her on any errands._

_Not today, although _I_ hope whatever lesson you have planned tomorrow isn't as long as today's._

_It's not hard to shorten it. Besides, it was takes longer to start something. Once it starts, it takes more effort to stop. It won't take long for her to learn the basics and it'll be fast learning from there._

_Sorry, _the girl mumbled.

_Cheer up, it's not like there's anything for you to apologize for! _the daughter clapped the girl on the back, making the girl give something that sounded like gagging, _If anything, it's _his_ fault for… piling everything on you all of a sudden. Right? _

_…of course._

_See, he agrees too! _The girl smiled.

_Anyways, take a seat over there, it's time for today's treatment._

The girl left early that day, seeing as there wasn't much for her to do. She ran off to the restaurant where her caretakers worked, excited to show them what she had learned. The daughter left too, later, clutching in her hands the medicine the doctor gave her. The doctor was expecting another quiet night, but when the daughter left, her father entered, almost as though he had been waiting.

_Oh, is there something—_

_It's not working._

_…what?_

_Whatever it is you're doing, it's not working! _The father yelled, face contorted in a mixture of anger and frustration. _She's forgetting things even faster now! You're just making it worse!_

_I assure you, _the doctor said stiffly, _I'm doing—_

_The best you can, _he finished for him mockingly, _Of course. Well then, the best you can do is apparently nothing, huh? Maybe you haven't noticed, but she's becoming worse every day. My daughter is disappearing and all you do is sit back and watch?_

_Sitting back and watching? Since when have I ever done that? Alright, so far, my treatments haven't worked, but I'm still—_

_How much time do you think you have left?! Once something starts, it's harder to get it to stop because it begins to pick up momentum along the way. That disease progressed at a slower rate at the beginning. It's doing more damage, faster. There's a certain point when it can't even be stopped anymore! And even if you somehow _do_ manage to stop it, the damage can't be reversed. Whatever it took, its keeping. Those things it takes, they won't be returned to my daughter._

_But there's still time now, isn't there?_

The man didn't answer at first. He seemed wilted. _Of course there is, and it won't help. Not a bit._

The doctor stared after the man even long after he had disappeared from site. He had a queer feeling about what he had said. _He _was not doing anything? _Him?_ It wasn't working? Well then, he decided, he would make it work. It was with his head filled with such notions that he went to sleep.

The thief was there. For the first time, it openly showed itself to the doctor. _You, stop me? I look forward to your attempt in hopes that they will prove more fun than the last ones were. Look, _it mocked, displaying all the treasures it had stolen, _Aren't they lovely? And they're mine, mine, mine. _They disappeared, _Even if you do catch me, you know that I won't return them, right? Nope, not even one. I'm hiding them away and I'll never tell a soul where I hid them. There are still things much more precious to steal too. I think I'll head for the memory vault next. I'm sure it'll be fun to break in and memories fetch a high price. As for your silly notion about Time…Time's my good friend, don't you know? If Time's going to help anyone, it'll be me, me, me, you useless doctor._

And so, the doctor woke with the queer feeling from the night before even stronger. A queer feeling which consumed him. It wasn't one feeling in particular but a mix of several.

Pride is a horrible thing; or at least it can be. It breeds so many other things. When injured, pride sends out obsession to heal or right it, even with the knowledge that nothing can be done. It pulls you along blindly, hoping for a one in a billion, billion chance miracle which could somehow undo the injury. Clouded judgment. Recklessness. The pride-induced obsession blinds you better than any pin could blind Mr. Clubfoot's eyes, because the pin actually made _him_ 'see'. And just like the father, the doctor's own pride began to chain him to disaster, created link by link.

The next day, the daughter was late again. She made no mention of it before the girl had pulled her aside for another lesson.

_There, those are the words for 'plant'…and this is the word for 'grass'. And medicine would be this…_

_These are a lot more complicated than yesterday's…_the girl said nervously as she looked at the many lines and strokes.

_We couldn't stay on 3 or 4 stroke words forever._

_You forgot a dash over medicine, _the doctor said as he glanced over.

_Oh…I guess…I forgot about that. _

She didn't make a mention of it after the girl left on errands either as she chattered away.

…_summer is really here now! The cicadas made a fine cho-rus. My dad says that it sounds more like…boiling oil than anything and that it's annoying, but it's rather nice sounding, don't you think? They're very…familiar sounds and it just wouldn't feel like summer without hearing them sing at least once. _

_Hmm…_The doctor observed her. Yes, there was definitely a change.

_Well what's the matter with you today? _She asked a bit testily.

_Nothing._

_Nonsense. You've had that weird look on your face ever since I came in…and it's not the weird look I'm use to._

_…really, it's nothing._

She sighed and smiled sadly. _If this is because of what my dad said yesterday night..._

_Wait, _the doctor sat up straighter, _how do you know about that?_

_Stealthy he isn't, _she said with a laugh. _I saw him when I was walking out yesterday. When he didn't even try to get my attention, I assumed he was trying to hide. Well, I was curious, so I…eavesdropped. _

_So, do you blame me too?_

Blame _you? Why would I?_

_Because nothing I've done is working._

_This time, unlike yesterday, is not your fault, _she said, trying to lighten the mood. The doctor looked as grim as before. _Really, it's not…like you said right? You've done the best you can._

_Which might as well have been nothing, _he said bitterly.

_Oh, don't tell me you're thinking that now?! Who says it's done nothing? How do you know it didn't slow…the disease?_

The disease told me I had done nothing, was what he wanted to say, but he decided that it sounded more like insanity speaking than anything and refrained from it.

_Honestly, don't be so unhappy, please? Because unhappiness spreads very easily, and this will make me unhappy…and I don't feel like being unhappy. Besides, I'm still here aren't I?_

_Right. _He smiled, but he couldn't help remembering the disease from the dream again.

_Time's my good friend, don't you know? If Time's going to help anyone, it'll be me, me, me._

Can't you be on my side just this once? He thought to Time.

Of course, Time wasn't nice like that. Time enjoyed siding with his good friend, the thief. No matter who begged, Time would refuse to slow down. It would also refuse to give more of itself.

Summer soon died and the leaves on trees began to shed their cool hues of green for warmer colors such as oranges and reds and yellows. The weather did the opposite and shed its warm air for a cooler air which told of a biting cold yet to come. In turn, the thief stole away more and more treasures.

_You have a very nice..view for the…autumn colors, you know that?_

_Ah, _the doctor briefly looked out the window before returning to his work, _I suppose so._

_You..never even look at, do you?_

_I don't exactly have time._

_Pfft, how long have you opened your…practice here now?_

_Not sure. Nine, maybe ten years._

_What a waste, _she said, smiling, never taking her eyes off of the slowly falling leaves. Occasionally, a gust of wind would sweep the ground, sending the leaves airborne in a swirl of color. _Look, they're…dancing._

_Mmhmm._

_Really, you're just like dad whenever he becomes…obsessed with his work. You never…take your eyes off of it. There's a lot more stuff...happening around you…you ought to pay some more attention to them._

_I think I'll do that when I have the time._

_With all the work _you_ take on, I don't think you'll ever have time. You'll have to…make it._

_They're just leaves; I'll see them next year._

_But, they won't be the same ones I'm seeing, will they? I…remember dad said something…similar a couple years back. I told him to look at the…lightning outside during a storm. He didn't, saying something about being able to see the same thing next time. But that time, the lightning struck a lake nearby and completely…lit it up! You can't see that every time. Then…then…well, he said something when he missed it. You get the point._

_…well then, tell me if the leaves suddenly light up the tree or whatnot._

_Ha, wouldn't that be…a sight. If I could just see this scene next year and every year after that…I wish it were possible._

_Why isn't it?_

_Well…you can't expect me to stay here forever, could you?_

_Oh, so do you plan to go off exploring into uncharted lands no living man has ever set his food upon?_

_…something like that._

The doctor paused again to look out the window just as another zephyr twirled through the leaves. She was right; he would never see the same leaves as her the next year, or the year after that, or that. No matter how he pretended or attempted to cover it up, fundamentally, the doctor knew that. And still he persisted…

Link by link, the chain grew more sturdily in place.

Autumn gave way to winter, a time of nothingness. And so too was the daughter's mind now. The thief had come swiftly in the last few months, cleanly picking up every last bit of treasure left. The rooms which had once been so full were now cavernous and empty. A few discarded pieces were left here and there.

She didn't speak at all.

She had to stay in the doctor's office constantly, as though her body too had been robbed of its knowledge of self-preservation. It was an easy place to conquer for the civilizations of evil viruses. And so she sat there in that bed slightly closed off from the rest of the office, waiting idly for her time to come.

The mind had already gone. The body was just an empty husk not unlike the skin left behind by a cicada which had already flown off. It would sit there and wait for a breeze to fly it too. And so the body sat.

The body would often have a piece of paper in her hands and she would fold shape after shape. Sometimes it would be a crane, sometimes a person, sometimes a flower. The movements were mechanical as though moved by a far-off memory. Shape after shape she would continue to fold so long as the paper supply lasted, all the while wearing an empty sort of smile on her face.

Even when consumed by fever, the body's weak fingers fumbled over the papers. Like a little machine who didn't know to stop, shape after shape emerged. The father was there that day, silently watching his daughter. The body wasn't aware that he was her father, but still, after the completion of the shape using the last pieces of paper available, she handed the shape to the father.

It was a house, very neat and straight complete with doors and windows and little pieces of simple chairs and tables. The body then lied down and went to sleep.

The body never woke up. It had been picked up by a breeze and flown off to join its mind.

Pride is a horrible thing. It can breed disaster and obsession.

It made the doctor unable to get over his failure. Why didn't I just have a little more time? He often wondered, just a little more time. And then he would think and think of all the things he could've done but didn't think of at the time. Time would grant his wish for a little more of itself. And so, the chain was completed.

The father became slightly crazy after the death of his daughter. He had no family left. His wife had died years and years ago, and his daughter had been the one to drag him on. Now there was no force to keep him moving forward. In that life, there was no one else who could. He would often stare and stare at the little paper house. It reminded him of the others that his daughter had made years ago to pass the time. Most of them were discarded or taken apart to be used as scrap paper. The father regretted not keeping them now. There had been such a variety and he could never replicate them. But he would try and fold shape after shape. _Not sturdy enough, _some people would hear him mutter as he walked down the streets, _Not stiff enough, it'll fall apart…_

Pride is a horrible thing. It set every chain in place.

* * *

"—fessor Harukawa. Oi, wake up."

Sleepily, Eisuke Harukawa pried his eyes open.

"You fell asleep over your work. Again," Setsuna said amusedly, "You're going to get back pain at this rate. It wouldn't kill you to go home or at least sleep in a bed."

He glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night. "I don't want to waste any time."

"Mmhmm," she picked up a paper with data on the treatments he had planned when she grimaced, "Hey, you know this amount would kill me, right?" she said, pointing to a column.

Harukawa quickly snatched it out of her hands. "…I added an extra zero."

"Honestly, get some sleep or you're going to kill me at this rate."

* * *

A/N: Whew! Done. I always got the impression Setsuna was a blunt one and it makes her fun to write.


	6. Mask

A/N: Rawr, I hated writing this chapter. Except maybe the very end. It just doesn't feel quite right.

---Fifth Cycle: Mask---

There was a blacksmith back in that life. A very good one at that. His swords were said to be the sharpest and strongest in the country. Rumor had it that with every strike, hate and evil intent was beaten into the metal until the sword itself wanted to gorge itself on blood more than the user wanted to cut through another. If a weapon was needed, it was to him people came. He was a deathmerchant, dealing out the best tools needed to drag people to the grave. And he was successful. He lived in the richest area of the town in a large compound filled with servants.

He also used his money and influence to secretly undermine the government and pay for illicit means of entertainment. For him, entertainment meant watching the faces of others melt like metal and be rebeaten by the hammer called pain into shapes with twisted edges sharp as his sharpest swords. The pain was caused by the blacksmith, as he attempted to combine the entertainment's flimsy cells with metals as he had successfully combined hate with metal.

He had a single daughter. His wife had mysteriously died some years ago. So mysteriously, in fact, no one was quite sure _how_ she had even died. The daughter didn't seem to mind, or even notice. She was having too much fun in life, playing her favorite game. That game was to imitate people, and she was remarkably good at it. She could beat the shape of her face into any expression she wished on the drop of a coin even better than her father could beat shape into metals. Her face became a perfect reflection of those she copied. It wasn't just the face either. The girl was equally skillful at beating different shapes into the tones of her voice. To her victims, it was as though they were talking to themselves, although that was ridiculous as her appearance looked nothing like them.

But then they would doubt themselves. Was it really that different? Was she really not the same height, build? Did she really not have the same features? They would ponder and ponder, then try to recall just exactly what the girl looked like and realize with a jolt: they had no idea. The girl's face was there, that was definite, and yet there was a strange liquid quality about it. The features were so very bland that unless they were twisted into another's shape, they seemed indistinguishable. And they twisted many, many times a day. The face was constantly changing from imitating one person's to another until the untwisted face could no longer be seen or only flitted across her for an instant; too fast to be remembered.

Copying another's appearance started as a game for the girl. It was always fun for her. To imitate another was as simple as slipping on a mask for her. The more difficult it was to imitate the face, the better. A challenge was always fun. It was like putting on an intricate mask, such a delightful treat.

There went the gloomy looking boy scowling at his ever attentive parents. _Clack._

And there is a rare sight; the blind girl, groping her way through the world. _Clack._

Ah, and here is the middle-aged man her father always spoke with, an ever present pipe stuck in his mouth. _Clack._

Is that the boy who only had a brother to look after him? _Clack._

Ooh, and the girl whose mother worked at the brothel is with him too! _Clack._

_Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack._

The interchanging masks passed in blurs. The world for her was a play; and she was the actor for every part.

And yet there was just a single part that the girl neglected to play: herself.

It started as a game, but it eventually became a necessity. She could act as anyone with the right mask on; repeat their lines, go through their lifestyles. But with no mask on and standing on center stage, the girl had no idea what to do. There were no lines to read off, no acts to imitate. She had to do whatever she wanted to, and she had no idea what. The masks acted as a sanctuary, distancing her from the real world while not completely removing her from it. She liked it back there. She could watch as the world moved and not have to do anything to change or affect it; she only needed to repeat. Without them, she felt bare and the world too close. Quickly, she would slip another mask on. She had to be an actor and never herself.

Which was why she never stayed within the walls of her home for very long. There simply wasn't as wide of a selection of roles for her to play as there were in the world outside. Behind her, a servant would follow. It was always the same one; a woman with long hair and a composed face. She had to be composed. She had to be sturdy. Otherwise, who would keep that ever-changing girl on track? The girl immersed herself within her roles so deeply that she often forgot things that she herself was supposed to know.

On that particular day, the two were strolling about the marketplace. The girl felt at ease there. _Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. _

_We haven't seen that girl in awhile, _the servant said quietly.

_Mm,_ was her only reply until the girl found a suitable role. There was a girl, clutching tightly to her mother, crying about how she didn't want her to leave. _Clack. _

_Oh yes, didn't you hear? _The girl said, now tearful as was appropriate for her part, _It was horrible, although I guess it was to be expected in her situation. Suicide! _She shuddered and clutched at the servant in a facsimile of that girl. _Don't leave me, please? _She whimpered.

_You know I can't anyways. I'm ordered to watch you._

_Clack. _There was a boy, whining to his parents about how unfair they were being. _Now that's mean! _She pouted, _I thought you loved me! _

The servant smiled slightly an patted the girl's head. _Well enough, I suppose, to keep from quitting. Now, I have to buy some things and you don't have to stay with me._

Another child was clapping with delight nearby as her father handed her a rare treat from one of the stalls. _Clack. _The girl beamed and gave the servant a quick hug. _Yay! I knew you loved me! _

_Don't go too far. Stay within the area._

_Right! _And the girl was off, running through the crowds, winnowing out possible candidates for her to imitate. She still had that happy child's mask on and was rather bored of it by now. The girl ceased running when she saw a young woman she had never seen before. The young woman seemed to be ambling about with no particular destination in mind. The girl's smile grew. What fun! A new role had arrived! She quickened her pace to study her knew part.

The young woman noticed nearly instantaneously when the girl slowed her pace right by her. She smiled cheerily back at the girl's happy mask. _Hello there. I don't suppose you know me, do you? _

_Nope._

_Ah, well that's not good. You shouldn't follow strangers so easily. I did once, they nearly kidnapped for a ransom. _

_Oh? _The young woman walked with her shoulders relaxed, her right hand slightly swaying by her side and her left one reaching behind her to grasp the elbow of the right one. Each step was slow with just a slight lilt at the beginning. A content smile was on her face (which was tilted upwards slightly when not looking at her), simply enjoying whatever the world had to offer. _Clack. _She had seen enough. _Well what about yourself? Wandering around alone in a place filled with nothing but strangers, you could really get kidnapped this time!_

The young woman laughed. _Of course I could still be kidnapped, you can be kidnapped no matter how strong you become or how well you lock yourself in your house. And honestly, it would be awfully boring to just sit quivering in fear within a fortress. Not to mention that if you do try to hole yourself up in a fortress, people seem to just want to kidnap you even more. A greater challenge or whatnot. Strange isn't it, that the harder you try to prevent yourself from being kidnapped, the more your acts seem to become a giant sign pointing to yourself saying 'come kidnap me'? _

The girl paused. This person was quite different from those who she usually copied, making it rather difficult to imitate her and her speech patterns. _Exactly…_she began, _So, why should I be wary? If I seem to be, they'll just wish to kidnap me. If I put myself forward as an easy target, no one will be interested in kidnapping me._

_I don't think it works quite like that, especially for you. You come from a wealthy family, don't you?_

_How could you tell?_

_You're wearing very fine grade silk. If you didn't have some sort of aristocratic status, you would be prohibited from wearing it. And also, _the young woman's smile was now an amused one, _May I ask why you are copying my every movement? I don't particularly mind, but I'm curious._

_Copying you? I assure you, I'm not. This is how I am naturally; perhaps you simply have movements similar to mine?_

The young woman laughed and laughed. _You are very good at this. A lot of practice, I assume. You've even been trying to copying the way I talk. No one your age speaks like _this_ naturally, no matter how well brought up you are. I could be wrong, I suppose, seeing as I haven't really met too many children your age. All I'm really going by is how I was, and I definitely didn't speak like this, although I still said some strange things regardless._

The girl stayed quiet, unsure of how to reply. How strange, she usually knew what lines to say. Why did she forget this time?

_Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? I'm curious, truly I am. A girl with your skill must be interesting._

…_my…self…? _The girl repeated quietly.

_Yes, _the young woman laughed, _You know, all the things that mix together to become a unique you. Everyone has one. _

_Clack. _The mask fell off, but nothing replaced it. There was the girl, standing on center stage without a line to say.

The girl stopped walking. Why, _why_, did the mask come off? No, she knew why, the young woman had made her drop it. But still, _why?_ The role of herself was unpracticed, she knew that. She just never wanted to see. She had always hid behind a mask, sometimes several until they covered her all over, making her feel safe and secure. Was she like a person who holed themselves up in a fortress, hoping to avoid being kidnapped in that she had attracted someone to try to pry her away from security? It was strange just how bare bareness felt after being surrounded by masks.

_Is something wrong?_

_…I…I don't have one._

_Don't have one? Nonsense. Like I said before, _everyone_ has one. You, me, even a beggar lacking everything won't lack a self._

_Well…then I forgot…_she finished lamely.

_Why don't you try and find it again?_

_Because…because…it's gone! Or changed! Either way…I can't find it anymore. _

_Nonsense._

_It's not nonsense! It's the truth._

_No, a self can't simply disappear in a healthy person like you. Selfs are very hard to change too. Think of it this way, an actor, no matter how many masks he may put on, does his own appearance without those masks actually change?_

_…no._

_Exactly. His true face, his core, it's simply buried under, but it hasn't changed or disappeared. It may be harder to find or to get to, but it's there. I think you may be like that. Dig a little, you'll find it. Besides, _the young woman smiled gently and patted her head, _I think I may have caught glimpses of it already._

_Really? Tell me, tell me!_

_Like I said, a glimpse. I'm sure someone closer to you has seen it much more clearly than I have. Ah, I better head to the doctor's now. It's about time for my appointment. Well then, goodbye. _With a final wave, the young woman left.

The girl raced back to the servant. There were still so many roles to play, and yet, those roles didn't satisfy her anymore. How could I have neglected to play myself? she wondered. She supposed it wasn't too late to start.

When she saw the servant, the girl called out her name several times. The servant turned, slightly confused. _Back so early? I would've thought you had forgotten as usual. Well, I'm not complaining. I don't have to look for you today. So what is it?_

The girl didn't answer immediately. What was proper to say here, she wondered. _Umm…who do you think I am?_

_Is that supposed to be some sort of trick question?_

_No, no! I'm just wondering, who do you think I am. You know, me?_

_You? Well, you're a little girl who finds fun in imitating others and won't quiet down when you become caught up in it. But, you're also the awkward little girl talking to me right now, does that answer your question?_

_Eh? That…that's it? _The girl frowned, disappointed. She had expected her 'self' to be something grander than that. _But…but I don't know what to say or do! How can this be me?_

_Didn't I already say that you're an awkward little girl? Everything that you are doing right now, everything that you are thinking now and when you're copying another person; that is 'you'._

The girl wrinkled her nose. _That answer is way too obvious!_

_If the answer works, no matter how simple, then accept it as the true one. Besides, it's just as well that the answer is obvious, any more obscure and you'll never be able to remember it._

_So this…everything is me?_

_Yes, what else did you think it was?_

The girl beamed. _So that means I haven't neglected to play me after all!_

_What are you talking about? _

The girl's grin grew even bigger. _Nothing._

_Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack._

And so the girl slipped back into her masks, imitating everyone around her. Yet when the moments came that she was without a mask, she no longer felt the uncomfortable feeling of being at a loss of something to say or do. She knew that there was no need to force things, and when the knowledge of who she was slipped her mind, then the servant would always be on hand, a sturdy being to remind her.

_You know something?_

_Yes, I know something, but not what you're referring to._

_'You' are a part of 'me'._

_Now I'm confused._

_Well, without you here, the me right now wouldn't exist, right?_

_If you say so._

_Gee, and I thought you would've been more excited to be a part of me._

_What, be part of your stupidity and forgetfulness? I don't see how that could possibly be a good thing._

_Is it really alright for a servant to talk to their master way?_

_Well, if it's you, I don't think it matters. You'd forget to tell the master anyways._

_Oh really? Then I'll go tell papa right now!_

_You wouldn't, I know you don't want me to go._

_…I wish you didn't know me so well sometimes._

And so, the girl was happy. Content to be part of a whole and to play to her heart's content. That was what childhood was for. But she was already growing out of childhood.

Her father was less than content with her. He had always harbored wishes that she would develop into someone who was worthy of being considered his heir. Yet the girl had no hate, no evil intent. The times he had brought her into the smithy, he had found that the swords she produced were quite good, but they lacked the quality which had led to the blacksmith being branded as a deathmerchant. The swords she produced relied entirely on the user; the blade itself didn't desire to enter another's flesh. As a result, they seemed much duller than her father's. The girl could imitate, but the hate was never her own.

He was furious. Why was it that his daughter lacked evil intent? After what she had managed to do to her mother when she was younger, he had expected greater things out of her.

_P-papa, are you mad at me? _the girl asked, terrified of the glare he was sending her way.

_Not so much as I am disappointed._

_Is there something wrong with this knife? Am I beating it wrong? _Weak, weak. Worse than the softest metal and able to be cut apart by anything. Why? He was never went through a time like this.

_Yes, very wrong._

_Err, so is it like this instead?_

_No. _Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

_C-can you show me? _And this fear! He never feared anything! He simply glared back with the same imposing force.

_Even if I did, it wouldn't do any good._

_Umm, I'm sure that I can do it right…_

_Someday, maybe. Can you tell me what's wrong with it?_

_Err…I'm hitting the knife with too much force…?_

_No! _The girl jumped. _If you ask me, it's not with enough force._

_O-oh? _She struck at the knife with a force which sent out a shower of sparks.

_Wrong again! _The father barked, _Are you trying to break it?! That's not the force I was talking about._

_Ah…m-maybe you can show me…?_

_Didn't I tell you already that it would do no good?_

_I-I just thought that maybe if I could see you, papa, do it…_

The father sighed. _Go. Your work is finished today._

The girl set down her tools and walked out as quickly as she could without seeming too afraid. Her feet took her to the servant.

_Is something the matter? _She asked when the girl ran up and buried her face in her robes.

_…papa's mad at me._

_Ah, well he's always mad, isn't he? Or at least he seems to be in a constant bad mood with the way he terrorizes the servants nonstop._

The girl giggled. _I guess that's true…_

_Exactly, so what's wrong with that? Your father…well, he's just like that._

_But…I've never heard him angry in that way. It just felt different from the way he usually was…_

_How so?_

_He said he wasn't mad, just disappointed. Tell me, have I done anything bad recently?_

_You mean besides forgetting to go to your lessons everyday and wandering off until who knows when?_

_Waaaah, you think that's what's made him so angry?_

_I doubt it. You've done it so many times before. Don't worry about it so much, it'll pass._

_…if you say so._

The father was there, listening. He had grown even angrier. This woman was the one to blame for softening up his child! He had thought that he had taken away that sort of factor when he had tested the child all those years ago. But in reality, the child had just found another source. Well, he would just deal with this source too, he supposed.

Maybe not as kindly as he had with the first. The servant found her way into the father's entertainment, and she had failed. She took off that life gladly when the chance came.

The girl cried for weeks and weeks afterwards for the servant, calling out her name as she ran through the compound searching. Her father had told her that he had sent her away but the girl never remembered that fact, or rather perhaps she didn't want to remember. It hurt to play as herself those days and so, the girl withdrew back into her world of masks. Letting them surround her in a wall, cutting her off from the rest of the world.

_Clackclaaackclackclackclaaaaaaackclaackclack. _

They changed sporadically, and out of the girl's control. One mask would be on her face and then another would shove it off to take its place. She would be in the middle of the line when her role would suddenly switch. The girl didn't mind. At least she wasn't herself.

And yet she had to be. Those moments which she had started to become used to were terrifying yet again. She had forgotten. What was it that the servant had said? It was such a simple answer. The servant had said even she could remember it, but she couldn't.

_Papa, who am I?_

_You're my daughter._

No, no, she thought, that wasn't the answer.

_Mister, who am I?_

_Wh-why are you asking me?_

Why wouldn't they give her a straight answer?

_Miss, do you know who I am?_

_Wh-what?_

It was such a simple answer, so why couldn't anyone say it?

_Who am I? _she asked the mask. _Who am I? _The mask remained silent.

She asked her father again. _Papa, who am I?_

The father was about to reply again, annoyed, but then, he stopped. Maybe a soft metal wasn't so bad after all. It could be easily beaten into whatever shape he wanted. _You are you. A little girl who takes delight in pain of others and whose evil intent surpasses all. My daughter._

_I am…me?_

_Yes._

That answer was familiar and it was simple. Was it what the servant had said to her? Yes…yes, of course it was! The girl confidently looked back at the stage bare of masks. She still felt lost. It must because she was out of practice, yes, that must be it.

_Teach me again how to be me, papa._

And the father taught her again, from the very beginning. The results he saw were very promising. Every weapon she made was better than the last; the girl had finally gotten enough hate. His only regret was that he hadn't dealt with the problem earlier.

The girl's results were less than satisfying to herself. _Claaackclackclackclaaaack. _The masks were still out of her control. The empty feeling, the feeling of missing _something_, of being lost was still as strong as ever. _Why can't I play myself? Why? _

_No…I know why. She's gone. Where did she go? That's right, papa sent her away…_

At the end of one lesson, the girl had suddenly turned, a knife in hand, still scalding from the fire. Her knives were just as good as her father's now, her hate could be directed and concentrated. The knife wanted to sink itself into the source of hate just as much, if not more, than the girl herself.

It went right into the father. He smiled as he fell. Yes, yes, _this _was correct. _This _was exactly what he had done; and better! This girl would make a fine deathmerchant, very fine indeed.

Still lost, still wandering. Her only hint at her 'self' was what her father had told her; she was a girl who took delight in the pain of others and whose evil intent surpassed all; even her father's. More hate, more killing intent. That should have made the lost feeling go away, but it didn't. Why not? Wasn't this her? It all cycled back to the same question.

_Is this me?_

_Is it?_

_Hey mister, is this me?_

_Hey mister, am I myself?_

_Hey mister, who am I?_

* * *

It opened its eyes. Darkness. Nothing. Same as ever. Even the same question was haunting it; who am 'I'? It thought back.

Lightning. Pain. Wind. Red. A woman. Fire. And…that hand. Yes, that hand was there; the very one which flitted across its thoughts every so often. Freak mutation or not, it was the one thing that he remembered with certainty.

_…experiment No. 11…born female…seventeen…a clone of myself_

A clone? _Is that me? _

The answer was so definite, and it felt wrong. It though back even further. There was a woman. It couldn't remember why, but he knew that _she _had known. Yes, she did. But who was that woman?

Long hair, composed face…

_Clack._ It winced at the harsh sound and sudden pain in its head.

Oww…wait, it was long hair and a ridiculous face with watery…

_Clack._

Oh, she had short hair, didn't she?

_Clack._

She had a porkish…

_Clack._

She had…

_Clack._

She…

_Clack._

She…wait, she? It was confused. Where did a woman come into all this?


	7. Paradise

A/N: Finally got off my lazy butt and started writing this thing. The final 'full' chapter, the next one will just but a short epilogue to wrap everything up. It'll be akin to the prologue, but a little longer. Lotsa assumptions and ideas about the world, since not much was revealed about it. Also, I lied. This is about as long as Fate was.

---Overlapping Cycle: Paradise---

Of those times, Nougami Neuro didn't just see bits and pieces of phantom images which speckled his dreams; he remembered. Familiar faces danced all around him, and occasionally, he would smile knowingly. It was strange how so little had changed; the faces, the mannerisms, the little habits—they were all still there. Yet their personalities had been somewhat distorted—as though the changing of the life was a funnel which bent and took a little of the past lifes with them—and their actions so changed. Who would've thought that withdrawn man with the dead little brother would actually have had the guts to shoot _him_? And that doctor's decisions were much crazier this time around (not that he minded, the mystery was delicious).

He had only been a child, not even reaching his hundredth year, when he had first heard of the miraculous 'surface world'. There were infinite amounts of them, the portals to each of them in Hell's 'sky', shimmering like trillions upon trillions of those legendary things called 'stars'. The moment he heard just a snippet, he had become obsessed with finding out more about it. He was certain that in one of those surface worlds would be one which could be his paradise, whatever it was; or at least as close to paradise as he could ever get.

Zera kept shaking his (or as he would like to be called, 'her') head. _I thought you were a genius! Don't you know the surface world's air is _toxic_? We'd all die if we breathed in even a whiff of it! We're not exactly strong demons!_

Of course, Neuro had promptly grabbed Zera's head and shoved it deep into the ground. But, he grudgingly admitted that Zera was right. He _was_ a weak demon then, his hair only a dull yellow, rather like how Zera's still was, and nothing else; the mark of a weak demon. The only reason he had even got this far (and Zera as well, since he/she was just mooching off of him) could be accredited to his high intelligence. He had somehow managed to make the most of his little power and outsmart many more powerful demons looking for a meal of bird and slug. Yet intelligence can only get you so far against pure strength. Being weak wasn't really his fault, you can't really be powerful when you're starved; and starved he was. From the moment he had been born, Neuro had never actually _eaten_. He had ingested foods that many other demons ate for energy, but they never did anything to satiate his appetite. The hunger continued to gnaw at him, sapping his strength. With each passing day, each passing year, he found it increasingly difficult to move or even think. There was an emptiness that had gone beyond just being empty; it was a hole that was swallowing him up. It was just a stomach. But it was devouring him. It had absolute control over him, and he hated it.

Then he ate for the first time. That was sometime after his hundredth year, but before the second hundredth. He and Zera had been wandering and suddenly, he stopped. Or rather, something had pulled him to a halt. There was a scent unlike anything he had smelled before. The aroma was the string and he the puppet, naturally, had gone towards it. Zera was yelling after him, but his/her voice was more in the background than it had ever been before. Then he saw it. Waves after waves of ever changing colors twisted and coiled into elaborate shapes sending out images of hate, anger; of evil intent. A mystery. He saw nothing but the mystery. It didn't matter that the demon was about twenty times larger than he, or that there was another demon nearby, hoping to make a meal of the mystery. He swallowed.

For the first time in his life, Nougami Neuro actually ate. He felt something flow down his throat, and it actually felt _right_, unlike the rotten meat that many other demons ate. That had gone down, but strangely, not unlike swallowing water down the wrong pipe for a human. And it had a _taste. _Smooth, rich, and filled with the bitterness of hate and at the same time, the sweetness of the murder. Flavor upon flavor mingled and lingered. He would later realize that the mystery he had eaten was a fairly bland one, but to date, nothing could compare. It was as though heavy weights had been lifted off of him by the tons as he felt the energy flowing through his body. The hole in his stomach was filled, the power it had over him waned. He was careful not to let it ever take as much control over him as it had.

The larger demon had fallen to his knees, now unsupported by the hate, anger, and victory. The other demon was standing there, stripped of a meal. Furious, he had attacked, but Neuro, with a strength he didn't know he had in the first place, crushed his limbs one by one and force fed the demon his own fingers. The demon shrieked a piercing cry whenever he wasn't choking on his own flesh. Neuro had laughed gleefully the whole time, reveling at how _easy_ everything was. Zera looked on in horror.

_I…I can't believe you just did that._

_That? What about it? I've seen others do worse, and I know you have too. Have to say, though; I've never had that much _fun_ in my life._

_…you're not going to do that to _me_ are you?_

_…_

_You wouldn't!_

_Eh, I suppose not._

That was when he knew what his paradise would be. Not a world filled with beings made ready for torture (although Zera believed that), but a world filled with evil intent, with mysteries. When they were in the dark regions of Hell, he liked to look up at those millions of shimmering doors cascading in clusters down to the horizon. There'd be a strange excitement which bubbled up within him, not quite the cruel delight of torture, but a warmer one which was indelible to him. Somewhere up there was paradise.

_I heard a rumor once that the beings inhabiting the surface worlds actually take care of their children; do you think it's true? _Zera had asked him that one day in the dark region.

_Naw, a child would just be a hindrance to their survival. Leaving them is a much better choice; it helps ensure their own survival and makes sure that only the fittest survive. Fate will know who to choose._

_Oh…I guess you're right. Fate's always right. _He/she sounded somewhat disappointed nonetheless.

_What? You wish that your parent had stayed around? Tch, you know no one does that._

_Yeah…_

Neuro continued to stare at the sky.

Somewhere.

Somewhere.

Meanwhile, he passed his time in Hell. It wasn't as bad as it had been. There was no dearth of mysteries, and with his high intellect, he kept his stomach satisfied and at bay. Every now and then, he would shock Zera with a new tool. _How did you do that?_ Zera would ask, jaw hanging loosely, _You're a weak demon like me! _Which would promptly lead to his/her head being slammed into the ground at best and his/her spine being tied in a knot at worst.

He knew that he was weak, and he didn't need Zera to remind him of it. Usually, only the strongest of demons could even dream of visiting the surface worlds. The sheer amount of energy that was needed to even rip open the translucent layer covering the portals was unthinkable to him at the time. Then to tear open the portals themselves and save enough energy to sustain the body from eroding away instantly in the toxic surface air…

Whenever he could see the portals (and Zera wasn't looking; he/she would laugh whenever he caught him doing that, saying something about _since you were born so weak, fate obviously doesn't want you to go to the surface worlds,_ prompting Neuro to stuff Zera's face into the ground; the Hellish earth sure felt a lot of Zera those days), he would lift his hands skyward, just to see if he would reach them. No, not yet. Still too weak. He was growing stronger by the day as his body gained more and more strength from the mysteries. Not quite…not yet…still out of reach. As out of reach as the heavenly paradise some demons prayed for.

Too weak.

Too weak.

But Nougami Neuro was not a weak demon as Zera, and he himself, believed. As he neared his second hundredth year, he would realize that.

Zera had noticed first. _N-Neuro…_he said, eyes wide and an expression caught somewhere between fear and curiosity, _Y-your _hair. _Look at it!_

_What about it? _From what he could see, it was the same as it had always been.

_What about it?! Look at this! _Zera reached forward and pulled a few tufts of hair from the tips of his ears and thrust them in his face. _They're _black_! And I know that it isn't dirt! _He said excitedly.

Neuro whacked his/her hand away and pulled the strands closer for a better look. _They are…_

_You know what this means, don't you?! _

_Of course I do, who do you think I am?_

_You're a candidate. A _candidate_! _Zera's face drooped further and further and his/her eyes darted faster and faster in more sporadic path. _Demons are going to chase you down…_his/her terrified shriek reached its peak, _They're going to kill you! A-and _me_ too! I'm going to die because I'm with you! I'M GOING TO DIE!!_

_Oh, shut up. _He took Zera by the head and twisted it around 1800 degrees before slamming it deep into the earth, _If you're that worried about being killed, then leave. Just don't expect another demon to be as generous as I was about your leeching._

Zera stilled for a moment, considering. He/she pulled his/her head from the ground and righted it. _W-will you protect me? _

_Why would I?_

_F-fate's obviously made you strong, and I'm still probably the lowest on the food chain. C-can't you try to make sure I don't get eaten?_

_Again, why would I?_

_I'm begging you, Nougami! I can't survive alone!_

_Is there some significance to that? I don't really care._

_But haven't I known you for 200 years?! _

_Doesn't mean I care._

_Oh…what am I going to do…I'm going to die no matter what..._

_While you sit here and think, I'm going to leave._

_What?! W-wait! Don't go yet!_

_I've wasted enough time, and my stomach demands food._

_Gah! Wait Nougami!_

…_Following me after all?_

_I'll just run when someone comes to kill you._

_Tch._

_Oooooooooooooooooooowwww!_

The area became a dark section later that day, as the sun was beaten into moving by others who wanted their areas to be lighted, revealing the rivers of portals. As he always did, he stretched his hands towards the sky. No…still not enough. But, Neuro smiled. His prowess had definitely increased greatly; the black tufts of hair were proof of that. Maybe Fate would let him enter his paradise after all. Then, certainly there, the Ultimate Mystery was waiting to complete the perfection of that world. A mystery so complex in flavor, his ever hungering mind and stomach could finally be satisfied. Demons lived for thousands upon tens of thousands of years; Neuro wouldn't mind dying after just one thousand years if he could just eat the Ultimate Mystery first.

He had reached his thousandth year the first time he had entered a surface world. By then, the black had encompassed about half his ears and he had gained quite a reputation in Hell, which in turn landed him a position. Hundreds of demons had indeed, as Zera feared, attempted to kill him, none of which were even remotely successful. A lucky few ended up dead. He didn't like to kill a potential mystery-maker, but it didn't mean that he didn't enjoy poking at them until they were neither here nor there.

When he had arrived at the transition level between Hell and the surface worlds, Neuro could not help but staring. All around him were small spheres of light, each glowing softly in pale shades of gray, blue, and yellow. It was remarkable that they each contained a surface world. Are surface worlds that small? he wondered. The drifted slowly, at the tempo set by Time, hanging in what seemed like nothing. If he didn't try to tear open the portals, they would simply drift through him, each world remaining securely wrapped in their protective layer, keeping everything from spilling out. When the layer was ripped open, a few things from the surface world would fall into Hell. The surface dwellers unlucky enough to fall in died within seconds from Hell's atmosphere. The one Neuro had chosen was as homogeneous as the rest of the portals. It was the closest, that's all. He took one last glance down at the surface of Hell. It was hazy from the transition level, but still clear enough to see the brilliant red that spread throughout the earth and the black swarms of demons which dotted the rocks and pools of lava. The sun gleamed in the distance; someone had managed to beat it awake. Somewhere down there, several demons were panicking at his absence. Oh well. He turned back to the portals. A bird had to leave its nest at some point.

The move between universes had taken a considerable amount of demonic power. Getting through the portals wasn't unlike humans trying to rip apart a five foot thick brick wall with their bare hands. The protective forces surrounding the levels which marked off the end of Hell and the beginning of the surface world tried to reject the intruder; an evil virus who shouldn't be there. They pushed and pushed, but Neuro wasn't so easily dispatched of, and eventually, he had plunged through that layer too.

He couldn't breathe.

He took deep breaths, but nearly nothing of value went in. There were only bits here and there of miasma. His body was screaming for air, the cells within it already starting to decay. Cracks appeared where the cell death was the most rapid. It was no wonder that most demons disappeared the instant they managed to arrive on a surface world. Neuro gritted his teeth and sent his remaining demonic energy to his cells. The energy kicked at the dead cells, dragging them back to life, and gave some strength to the ones which had not. The cracks seemed to disappear as the cells mended themselves.

This method would keep him alive, but it was nowhere as efficient as breathing in miasma. The cells were designed to accept miasma as their food; demonic energy was just the wastes produced. Shakily, he stood. The surface world spun around him and his legs threatened to crack under the weight it supported. So, Zera really meant it when he/she said that demons had less than even a fraction of their normal strength on a surface world.

Slowly, the spinning came to a stop as his body began to adapt to the laws of that world. The initial strain of the world subsided slightly and Neuro opened his eyes. He seemed to be hidden in between two rather ramshackle buildings, not too unlike some he had seen in Hell. This surface world didn't seem too much like a paradise yet. There were yells in the distance. Neuro smiled. There was a faint smell of a mystery.

Before he could even take a step forward, he heard yet another sound; a scream caught in the throat. In front of him, at the opening from the buildings, was a surface world specimen, face ashy white and eyes wide in terror. He supposed he must've looked ghastly; a giant, deformed bird with rows upon rows of sharpened teeth and two legs not too unlike the specimen's, would have that sort of effect on the rather monkey-like creatures. He grinned, and the creature wanted to scream again, and again, only the beginnings of one let itself out.

One step forward.

A step back.

Another forward.

It ran.

Neuro let the thing go, rather conveniently, he noted, towards the mystery. Demon Law mandated that demons on the surface world may not be too conspicuous. Nor could they change the course of that world too much. That is, unless said demon wished to set the Furies upon themselves.

In order to remain inconspicuous, he changed his appearance. The beak retracted into a face more like the one he had seen, eyes grew less beady, and the black tips turned into black bangs. His clothes stretched until they were a looser, more like the clothing of the creature he had seen. The disguise was a bit itchy, and uncomfortable to maintain, but it would have to do. He took a step forward, feeling unbalanced from the sudden weight change in his upper body. After steadying himself, he walked towards the mystery.

Knowledge was everywhere, floating in the air. Customs, ideas, for the most part, were just drifting, waiting to be absorbed. At least, that was the way for beings like him. As he walked, Knowledge swathed around him, assimilating itself into his brain. The creatures were called 'humans', the humans in this area had a specific language. Apparently, the human he had encountered earlier was a female and considered fairly young. The humans were also ridiculously weak, even to a demon with less than a fraction of his strength. They would hardly even reach a century—if lucky. When their arms were ripped off, they could not reattach. When someone broke their framing—bones they called them—it would _hurt_ and not mend. Not to mention their speed was pitiful, so they couldn't even run away properly. He was truly confused at how these creatures had even survived, or how they could even want to survive.

They also seemed to care for their young. So Zera was right about that after all. His own had left him to fend for himself as was normal for demons. Such strange creatures, how would caring for your offspring be beneficial in any way?

That was a mystery for another time. Neuro licked his lips. This mystery was top-notch, he could tell just by the smell of it.

He arrived at a store nearing the edge of the town. The girl was there, standing, staring at the spectacle which so many gawked at. He put on a mask of innocence and placed himself behind her.

_Excuse me, but do you mind telling me what everyone is standing here for?_

_Someone's been killed, _the girl said quietly without looking at him.

_Oh my! How terrible. I wonder, _he placed a hand on her shoulder. The girl stiffened, a small tremor went though her. _Does this town usually have so many murders? _The hand snaked around her throat. Before the girl could make so much as a sound, Neuro had pulled her away into a remote corner, away from the growing crowd.

The girl backed away as for as she could, eyes never daring to leave him. Shakily, she held out a strange little piece of flat, circular metal with a brown tint. A line was drawn down the middle with a darker stain of brown and a jagged pattern ran down one side of the line. He could've sworn he heard her mumbling, _Go away, please go away. _How annoying. With a flick of his hand, he sliced the flat circle in two, right down the middle. For the first time, the girl's eyes darted from him as she scrambled to retrieve the now broken pieces of that circular metal.

_Hello there, I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet._

Eyes quickly shifted back to him. _No way…you can't be…th-that _thing_._

_What a shameful way to put things. I am not a 'thing', you humans have such an abysmal view of things._

The girl opened her mouth, possibly to cry for help, but he stuffed his hand neatly into her mouth. _Now, now. Please do be quiet, worm. I haven't done anything remotely terrible to you yet. _A rat scurried by, up the girl's arm. _Perfect. _In one swift movement, he grabbed the rat and separated its flesh from its skeleton. The girl's already wide eyes opened further. _Not exactly the best of ways, but it'll do. _He crushed the bones into a fine powder and let it slip in a thin line through his fingers. As it fell, the line grew in volume and reformed into a ribcage, then shoulder blades, then arms bones, and finally, a skull. The skeletal torso fell to the ground, but it twisted its skull until it could face the girl. Its jaws rattled open and croaked out its own name, and then the girl's name. Then as quickly as it had appeared, the skeleton crumbled back into the powdered remains of the rat bones. _Good work, Bone. Now then, worm, let's have a proper introduction. _He removed the disguise from his head partially so that only the one he chose could see it.

The girl, already on the verge of hysteria from her encounter with Bone, began to struggle, trying to tear his arm from her mouth. _Since you're so eager to speak again, as the kind demon I am, I shall allow you to. Do keep your voice down, however, or I will have to do terrible things to you._

_Wh-who are you? _The girl asked again once she could speak.

_My name? I am Nougami Neuro, a resident of Hell who thrives on eating puzzles._

_Puzzle?! Th-that's impossible! _She stuttered, _I'm going in-insane, I just know I'm going insane!_

_Insane? Ridiculous, I assure you, everything you are seeing is real. Now be a good slave and do as I say._

…_Slave? _She repeated nervously, then louder, with more movement, _Since when was I your slave?!_

_Ever since you wanted to die peacefully in your sleep with all limbs, organs, and spine attached to your body._

_I-is that a th-threat?_

_Congratulations, slave, you know a threat when you hear one._

The girl gritted her teeth to stop her stuttering. _I'm not your slave._

Neuro rolled his eyes. Really, these creatures were annoyingly stubborn. Had they no sense of self-perseverance? If someone thousands of times stronger than appears and demands that you prostrate yourself at his/her feet, it must be done unless you wanted to die. Neuro knew, he had once done that (although, very rarely nowadays). Honestly, no point in struggling in a battle that will certainly be lost. _Regardless, just be good thing and do as I say, because despite the kindness I have shown you thus far, I _can_, _he slipped his hand over her throat, ungloved and showing every claw, scale and serpent-tip, _Make it hurt_, the girl stiffened and the trembling began again,_ Very much. So then, do we have an agreement? You will do as I say, and I won't torture you to death._

Anger flushed the girl's face briefly before ebbing away. She steadied herself and looked directly at Neuro, bird head and all. _Fine. _

He grinned a toothy grin and slipped back under his human mask. _Good. Your task is very simple, so simple that I believe even a worm such as yourself will be able to do it. _The girl gave a weak glare; she didn't dare do much more. _When the time comes, say 'the criminal is you'._

_The criminal…? _The girl blinked in confusion, _But what if I don't know who the criminal is?_

_It doesn't matter._

_And what's the 'opportune' time?_

_You'll know._

_I'm agreeing to do what you say, can't you at least give me directions that are more cleaAAHG! _Neuro pulled the girl by the head back towards the crowd. _Let me go! I can walk!_

_Quiet. _The scent of the mystery hung in the air, mingling perfectly with the stench of death until the pair created a most appetizing aroma. It hung all around the dead human.

The body was a man's who had been mysteriously crushed to death by several heavy pots and vases which had been stacked high upon each other. The shopkeeper had sworn that he kept his merchandise stacked safely so that they would not fall, but no one listened to his protests. In their eyes, the death had been an accident. An accident which was for the most part the fault of the shopkeeper to be sure, but a murder? Impossible. The shopkeeper was becoming anxious; at this rate, he was going to be arrested and punished severely.

Using the girl as a barrier breaker, he pushed through the crowds and towards the shopkeeper. _Hello there, _he chirped, _Do not worry about a thing. My teacher here believes that she can prove that this incident is a murder and not a case of negligence. _

_Your teacher? _The shopkeeper asked quizzically, _And just where is your 'teacher'?_

_Right here, _he shoved the girl very close to the shopkeeper's face.

_H-hello._

_You? And just how do you propose to help me?_

_Err, well…_

_Teacher is a genius at these sorts of things! I'm quite amazed by her abilities myself._

The shopkeeper scoffed. _That's a surprise to me. I've seen her ever since she was _this_ tall, and it never occurred to me that her mind was anything spectacular. She doesn't even have a proper education._

_I-I've had lessons from the doctor, _the girl mumbled.

_Mmm… _

The shopkeeper, Neuro noted, was wearing clothes of much higher quality than the girl's. It seemed that he had either higher status or more wealth, which likely contributed to his distrust of the girl's (nonexistent) abilities. It might've been a mistake to choose this girl after all. But…she had seen his true form and was conveniently placed. He supposed he could build up her reputation. Being poor and 'uneducated' may even serve as an excellent gimmick.

It didn't take long for Neuro to solve the mystery. All he needed were some answers to a few quick questions. He took control of the girl's hand, attaching to it an invisible strand of demonic power, allowing him to move her like a puppeteer over his marionette. She was fearful, but seemed to understand that this was when she needed to play her role.

_The criminal is you._

The mystery itself had been simple enough. The merchandise fell when someone had discreetly cracked the inner part of a pot near the bottom of the stacks the other day when the shopkeeper had been arguing loudly with another customer. Then, the criminal simply haunted the shop until he saw his victim enter. The 'wall' of the store was little more than a thick piece of cloth on that side. All there was left to do was time breaking the weakened pot to when the victim was within that area.

Yet the taste was different. There was a certain tinge of a flavor Neuro couldn't quite describe. It was bitter, sour, and spicy all melded into one strange blend. Strange, yes, but quite pleasant. The flavor seemed to enhance the overall taste of the mystery and gave it a depth Neuro had never tasted before in Hell. He licked his lips. This dingy world was starting to look like paradise.

The murderer was taken away not too long after that, and slowly, the crowds dissipated. None of them, however, forgot the image of a young girl pointing out the murderer none of them knew existed. Rumor by rumor, the girl's fame was growing.

In his gratitude, the shopkeeper handed the girl a few silver coins and mumbled a quick thanks. He could still hardly believe it.

The girl could hardly believe it either. As she walked home, she stared at the silver in her hands, not trusting her eyes for showing everything that had happened.

…_you did something to that man. He was screaming._

_Hmm? Oh, I told you I ate mysteries, did I not, worm? I was simply having a meal._

_But what did you do?_

_Mysteries always taste best when the maker is in complete submission. I just toyed a bit with him to get him to that state._

The girl's lip trembled. _That was toying?_

_Well yes, I wouldn't want the pitiful man to be _dead_ now. _

_So just what exactly d-did you do? _The girl had stopped walking near a cluster of dilapidated houses. Her head was bowed.

The constant questions were beginning to bore him. He never liked being bored, and so, in order to be spared that state, he made use of a bit of demonic power and disappeared into another street. He would return later, when the girl wasn't so excessively emotional.

Night had already fallen. Speckles of light streaked across the sky, twinkling and inconstant. It had taken him a moment to remember that those weren't portals; they were stars. _Stars._ Stuff of legend in Hell, and he was seeing them. Eagerly, he gazed across the entire blanket of black; if there were stars, then maybe he'd see another thing of legend. And he did. Partially blocked off by the shadows of some annoyingly tall trees was a sphere of light glowing a warm yellow. It did not wink in and out of sight as the stars did but remained hanging in the middle of the dark. The 'moon', he believed it was called. There were several rumors circulating Hell about this object. It was said that on some surface worlds, a man on the moon was visible. Neuro supposed that this surface world wasn't one of them, as all he could see were patches of grey mottling the otherwise (seemingly) smooth surface. A demon had also mentioned once that some humans believed that their ears would fall off if they pointed at the moon. Curiously, he raised his pointing finger (always the middle, longest and therefore the most easily traced and seen) and directed it at the moon. Nothing. He lifted his other hand to feel his ear. Still there. He wasn't too surprised, humans weren't the brightest of beings.

Still, they made delicious mysteries, if the one he had eaten was anything to go by. Neuro pondered on that strange flavor it had. Just what was it? After all the mysteries he had eaten Hell, he had still never tasted anything remotely like it. Humans were mysteries (inedible ones, to be sure) themselves.

He had given the worm enough time to calm herself, he decided. After sliding down from the roof he had been laying on, he backtracked to the decrepit house the girl had stopped in front of. A peek through the window showed a single room home with a fireplace in one corner, a table in the center, another corner boarded up, and two people curled up under rough cloth. A third was sitting with the cloth wrapped around her. He slipped into the house swiftly and crouched by the girl. Before she could so much as acknowledge his presence, Neuro cast an evil blind over both of them. _I see you're pretty well off, worm._

_You! _She drew back, startled. Then panicking, she turned to look at the other two, still sound asleep.

_They won't wake up. You and I currently of a lower resolution than the rest of the world, meaning they can hardly see or hear us, although they two of us with the same resolution can still clearly see or hear each other._

…_You really are a demon._

_Of course, are you still under the impression that this is all some hallucination?_

…_No._

_Good._

_Why are you here anyways?_

_Hmm? I was just about to get to explaining that. You see, I think that things would be much more efficient if you knew exactly what your job is now._

_Job?_

_Yes, as my slave, _the girl grimaced, _You will act as an investigator who can solve all mysteries. Do not worry, all that really means is doing what you did today, and I trust that you can handle that._

_I don't understand. If you can just solve all these mysteries by yourself, what do you need me for?_

_You will be a_ _cover_ _for me_ _for the duration of my stay here. A demon can't go traipsing around on a surface world drawing attention to himself or herself, even if they act as a 'human' while they are doing so. Severe punishments are dealt to those who affect the surface world too much. _He paused briefly to renew the evil blind. _To lessen the impact, a cover would be ideal. Understand now?_

_Yes…and what was that skeleton?_

_That was just Bone. He established a contract of sorts between us. Meaning I can use you as I see fit, use certain of my tools on you, and affect your life all I want without repercussions. Of course, this also means that I can't kill you as long as the contract is in effect (although breaking it isn't very hard). Only two or three living contracts can be made per surface world, before you ask._

The girl sighed and rubbed at her eyes with her hands. _What a life I've been having._

_I'm sure. You have no further questions, I trust._

…_no…_

_Well then, I'm glad we've had this little conversation._

When he had awoken the next day (he spent the night in an abandoned building), Neuro was delighted to find that another mystery was already awaiting him for breakfast. Again, he backtracked to the girl's home and was agitated to find that it was empty. She must've gone into town; that was where he had met her the other day. The only question was her exact location.

There may have been no one in her house, but in another nearby, Neuro spotted a man toiling in his fields. It was strange, but Neuro could smell in the air about the man just a tinge of that flavor from the mystery. Excitedly, he wondered if a mystery was being produced. He placed on his nice mask and walked over.

_E-excuse me, but would you happen to know where the inhabitants of that house over there have gone?_

The man paused in his work and looked at Neuro, startled. _Ah, I think that the elder siblings are working in the restaurant in the center of town. The girl should be at the doctor's place. _

_Thank you very much, sir._

…_I don't think I've ever seen you around here._

_I suppose not since I only arrived in town yesterday._

_Is that so? Enjoy your stay._

_I'll be sure to._

The girl was at the doctor's, just as the man had said.

_Do you have an appointment? _The doctor had asked him when he stepped in.

_Oh no, I was looking for my teacher!_

_Your teacher?_

_Ah, there she is._

Said 'teacher' gave a small shriek and nearly dropped the armload of herbs she held.

_Careful, _the doctor said sharply.

_My, I didn't know that you worked here, teacher._

_She's your teacher? _The doctor asked, amused. _Tell me, what are you teaching him?_

_Nothing, _she muttered.

_Teacher is a great investigator! I'm very lucky to have met her, _Neuro said, completely ignoring the girl.

_Is that so? I hope that your studies can wait until her work is finished._

_Of course! _Of course, Neuro rather wanted to tear the doctor's arms off for suggesting such a thing.

A patient had entered while the exchange took place, and the doctor turned to start his treatment, leaving Neuro to speak with the girl. She had stiffened noticeably when he took a seat next to her as she sorted out the packets of herbs. _What are you doing here?_

_I should be asking the same thing._

_I work here!_

_Oh? But had I not made it clear already that you worked for _me_ now?_

_I thought I would have a life out of that._

_You thought wrong. Besides, why keep a job here?_

_The pay isn't bad, and despite what you may think, my family is _not_ well off._

_Again, had yesterday not made it clear to you that you would make a living? People pay for your investigations._

…_I don't want my family to worry either._

_Why should they? _They weren't going to be harmed, what else could there be to worry about?

_I…I told them about you yesterday._

_Oh? _His smile stretched cheerfully until it displayed each of his shark-like teeth, _And had I not told you that I must remain inconspicuous?_

_That was before you told me that! _She said defensively, _Anyways, if I just started to become an investigator now without any reason, they'd connect it back to you. The thought that a demon is hanging around me wouldn't exactly comfort them._

_Why not? _He was confused; it wasn't as though _they _were the ones being threatened.

_What do you mean why? Family members tend to care for one and another._

_Really? _Humans; such strange creatures.

_The point is, I don't want them to find out about this, at least, not now. And if I just quit the job here at the clinic…they'd definitely ask for an explanation._

_Just let them worry._

_No! Look, this would hardly affect you. I only work here in the mornings. Most of my afternoons are off, and I'd only come back near sundown to help with some last minute things. Besides, I'm on delivery a lot, and with your speed of solving those…mysteries, I could go make a delivery and still make it back without arousing any suspicion. I'm already agreeing to be your cover, and I doubt you're going to find anyone more willing than I am._

…_fine. But know, worm, you better have time 'off' soon. I'm starving._

She sighed in relief. _I'm working as fast as I can. _

For lack of better things to do at that moment, he stood and glanced about the clinic. It wasn't very big. The doctor had his desk where he treated his patients and mixed the medicines under the window to the left of the door, under the right window was a chair and small desk. In the center of the back area was another long, lower table at which the girl worked. To its left was another door, leading to a small, crowded store-room. To its right was a bed surrounded on three sides by walls. Above the bed was small shelf where Neuro noticed clumps of pale yellow. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they were pieces of paper folded into various shapes. He picked up one in the shape of a beetle and wondered who had wasted their time folding these useless things.

_Don't touch that! _Suddenly, the inexplicable smell of that flavor flared. It was coming from the doctor who had half risen from his seat.

_I apologize._

_Hmm. _The doctor resumed his treatment of the patient, who was quite surprised by the outburst.

Not nearly as much as Neuro. What importance could a little folded beetle hold? And then there was that scent…

It had died down, but Neuro now noticed that he could still smell just a barely noticeable amount. He had not noticed it the other day when was still adjusting to the surface world. Strange. It came from nearly every human. He licked his lips. Well then, that must mean every human was capable of creating a mystery as delectable as the one he had encountered yesterday. This surface world must be his paradise.

The moment the girl finished her work, Neuro had half-dragged her out. The doctor had not stopped them, seeing as everything was completed. He only told her to return on time. The girl could barely tell him that she would before she was pulled away.

_Where is this mystery anyways?_

_The other side of this town that way._

The girl gawked. _You mean over where all the rich townsmen live?!_

_Oh, is that what you refer to it as?_

_I saw some of their houses once on delivery. They're huge! I didn't even know you could build something that size!_

_Hmm…what was that piece of paper to the doctor?_

_What? _

_The folded papers, he had a surge of—he had a strong reaction to it. _

_O-oh, that. _The girl had dropped her eyes to the ground and was then fumbling with her fingers. _There used to be this lady that was his patient, she taught me how to write at a time. At…the end, she had to stay in the clinic. She folded the paper to pass time or something._

_I presume she died._

_Yeah…_

_And so the point is?_

_The point? _She directed a small glare at him, _Death. That's the point._

_Yes. Death is death. I see no connection to the paper._

_It's what she left behind._

_She is already dead. There is no need to have such outbursts when someone so much as touches the vestiges._

…_you really don't understand much, do you?_

_What are you—_

_Ah. There's your mystery._

As he expected, the mystery was simple to solve, but still every bit as delicious as the first. The sheer amount of mysteries pervading the surface world astounded him. In Hell, he could go for weeks without even a hint of one forming; but on the surface world, mysteries were almost daily. Evil intent, hate; humans were filled with the stuff. Every one appeared normal, yet within those floods of faces, there'd be several who appeared so twisted when the mystery had been wrung out of them. There was that flavor too…he had been on the surface world for a few months already, and he still had not the dimmest idea as to what it was.

Despite the girl's precautions, her family had eventually discovered her investigative side job. He wasn't surprised; honestly, she was taking home more money than the doctor would ever pay her. He had behaved appropriately and was very friendly towards the man (who was the girl's caretaker). The man, however, didn't seem to trust him. Throughout the conversation, the rude man had leered at Neuro. Neuro smiled right back and turned the leer to a nervous gaze by the time he bade them goodbye.

Wonderful as the surface world may have been, it took a heavy toll on his body. Constantly, it threatened to erode away if he so much as released just a little less demonic energy. He could hardly remember what it was like to breath in a wonderful lungful of miasma instead of the putrid oxygen. There was going to be a certain point in which demonic energy could no longer substitute the miasma, and he knew that he would have to return to Hell. It wouldn't be long. Paradise didn't like having demons in it.

He returned to Hell as the cold settled in.

Humans really were weak. A little cold and they'd weaken so easily. The girl, for example, was much more susceptible to fatigue at that time; her breath shorter and body overheated as it tried to protect itself from the piercing cold.

_Tired already, slug?_

_Wh-what do y-you expect, _she said, teeth chattering, _We've been walking f-for over an h-hour._

_We've walked less than five kilometers, may I remind you. In Hell, five kilometers is nothing._

_W-well we're n-not in Hell, are we?_

_Humans, really._

_D-don't look down on u-us! _She snapped (not very effectively, as she was still shivering), _I-I'll definitely g-get better o-one d-day. B-better th-than you!_

Neuro looked at her pityingly. _Oh dear, I think the cold is getting to your head._

_I-I will!_

_Such pathetic creatures as humans can't get any better since Fate has determined for you to stay this weak forever._

_F-fate, huh? _She paused, then slowly, continued, _My caretaker m-mutters in his sleep a lot. It's always about f-fate and truth or whatnot. He regrets a lot things, I th-think, because he didn't bother to _try_ and p-placed all the blame on fate. Surely, if all demons are like that, they have a lot regrets too._

…_regret? I don't think demons have that sort of emotion._

_R-really? It seems to me that d-demons don't have a lot of things. Regret isn't necessarily a b-bad thing, you know. Even if it k-keeps you back at times, it also makes sure that you don't make the same mistake again._

_Tch. Humans have too many emotions._

_Emotions are what m-make a human. It's th-thanks to them that I c-can improve._

_Pfft. I would enjoy watching you try to do that._

She tossed her head. _Watch me then. _

_I will watch you and your impossible pursuits. It'll be novel; demons don't waste their time doing things like that._

_I-impossible? Wh-what about you? The ultimate mystery? That s-sounds pretty impossible too, and you tr-try for it._

Neuro grew silent. She was right, in a way. Eating the ultimate mystery was near impossible as it would have to be unsolvable, which also meant he could never actually eat it, if he could, it wouldn't be 'ultimate'. Yet he clung to the idea for reasons he didn't know. _I will eat it one day._

_Mmhmm._

_Tch. _

_Yooow!!_

He never did get to watch the girl improve as she said during that particular life of hers; she died before much progress was made. As the winter dragged on, the girl's short breath turned into virtually no breath at all and her body too heated to be maintained any longer. He had gone to her home one day. She was laying in the center of it, as bundled up as they dared and her gasps drifted through the air. It was almost like watching a demon trying to breathe oxygen. Her caretaker was simply staring, eyes blank as though his mind had gone off into a faraway place.

…_you didn't improve at all, worm._

She couldn't reply; she could only look.

…_I'm returning to Hell. If my body deteriorates much more, I won't be able to get back at all. Besides, it'd be too suspicious if I just found another cover so soon after your death._

Sobs mixed with the gasps, and just a few trickles of tears flowed; the body didn't have much to spare.

_What's the matter now you slug? _

He received no reply.

The man was stirring, and Neuro slipped out, unnoticed. He didn't go far. When the girl finally stopped breathing, he was there, outside, listening to the frantic sobs of the woman that lived there.

Gone. So very soon. So very fast. Humans, really. Their lives were ephemeral.

That was death.

He looked up at the sky. The moon that he had thought so constant was gone, leaving only the lonely stars to light up the darkness.

It was time. He tore open the barrier between the surface world and the transition layer, and again, he found himself standing in an ocean of portals. The portal he had been in quickly drifted away. Time had sped up its tempo. Using his remaining strength, he entered Hell.

His body was weak from the lack of demonic energy, but he could feel his physical strength returning with each lungful of miasma. This was home, and he was surprised to find himself find it bleak. No scent of a mystery or of that flavor. Just demons ripping each other apart in the normal, unchaotic fashion. He sighed and headed 'home'. It was strange, Hell had never seemed a boring place to him before, but now, something, _something_ was missing from the demons that infuriated him. Life was missing a spice as were the mysteries. He had been spoiled by the surface world. No longer could he expect a first-class meal every day, or find entertainment in watching in humans. Really, he couldn't imagine how he had survived for _1000_ years in Hell.

His fellow demons of the court were indeed furious at him for shirking responsibilities (as he expected). Hell was in a sort of inedible disorder brought on by his absence. Apparently, five years had passed although he had only spent six months on the surface world due to the changing of tempos. Five years wasn't much time and it was astounding how Hell could not even keep itself together without him for that amount of time. More astounding, Zera was still alive. He had thought that the fool would've died, but there he/she was, blabbering in a panic filled voice.

The responsibilities didn't matter, not enough to keep Neuro from revisiting a surface world. His stomach was more important. Once he felt well enough, again, he arrived at the transition layer. The portals were whizzing by in blurs. Thousands, millions, billions of them; surrounding him in a frantic maelstrom of light. He grew nervous; what if he couldn't find paradise again? After pacing about aimlessly, he arbitrarily reached out and tore through a portal.

It wasn't paradise.

The world was a strange one. It was far more advanced than the one he had previously visited. The homes existed on floating pieces of earth kept high by machinery and walking and horses replaced by strange automatic walkways and floating disks. There was no scent of a mystery. No evil intent. No chaos. Every being on the world seemed to move and breathe as a single, agreeing unit. Quickly, he returned to Hell.

He took a second attempt once he had enough demonic energy. The world this time was less advanced. The floating islands and homes were replaced by uniform buildings and apartments of a noncommittal pastel color. Every home had a flat glass pane with moving pictures inside. This world was filled with violence, with chaos. He had stayed long enough to watch three people get run over by things not unlike an evil rapid (although much slower) and another five being shot to death. Yet there was no mystery. The humans of this world seemed to be dead. Yes, they lived, but they simply went through the motions. Their heads were empty; there were no ideas, and without that, no mystery could be born. It reminded him of Hell only everyone died much more easily.

On his third try, the world was filled with humans, but they weren't like the humans he had known in paradise. They were constantly happy, even when a family unit member died as another who was lacking a complete family unit would fill in the spot the next day. The humans could produce evil intent, but it would never amount to a mystery. Through some sort of technique every infant underwent in the facilities before being assigned to a family unit, they were made to feel pain and nausea whenever even the thought of something violent occurred. If pursued further, they were made to feel every bit of pain that they had thought of producing.

And on his fourth try, there wasn't even life on the world.

Time and again, he returned to Hell, depleted of strength and demonic energy. He had come close to being killed those times by those who hated him and decided to take advantage of his rare weakness.

_You can't keep doing this! _Zera had told him, _One of these days, you really are going to be killed!_

He knew that Zera was right. It had been a fluke that he had managed to enter a paradise, and it wouldn't happen again. That was Fate for you, always taunting. And so, he stopped trying to enter the surface worlds, but he could never bring himself to say 'gave up'. It wasn't as though he couldn't fill his stomach in Hell; it was just harder. True, the mysteries were blander, but they were still edible. The ultimate mystery could exist in Hell, he told himself, Hell's a vast place.

Then one day, there were no more mysteries. He had waited months and months, nearly a year, but still nothing. He searched for a reason and found it. No one wanted to try anymore. They didn't want to bother coming up with more complex puzzles; they knew that he'd solve it anyways. They didn't bother thinking about the '_if he couldn't solve it'. _They didn't want to try to improve anymore. They had given up, blamed it on Fate, and decided to kill each other outright without trying to hide it and run the risk of setting Furies on their tail.

_Fate ordained this, _Zera shrugged, _Guess you're meant to starve._

And Neuro finally realized what he had found maddening about Hell after paradise.

_I don't care._

_What?_

_Fate. _

_What?!_

_Fate is useless. It's just an excuse to stop trying. _Strange, he had mocked that girl once, and now he was practically repeating the same things.

_Don't say that!_

_Why not? What's Fate going to do?_

…_you really have changed._

_What's so bad about that?_

_Wh-where are you going?_

_To the surface worlds._

_You're trying that again? Haven't you realized that it's useless?_

_If I try enough times, I might make it back there._

_B-but, you'll die if you attempt it too much. Remember what happened last time?_

_If I don't go, I'll die anyways, and I'd rather die from being killed than from starvation. My need can't be met here. _

_You're insane._

_Am I really?_

He didn't wait for an answer. Briskly, he stepped up into the transition layer. He shouldn't have stopped trying. All that time wasted in Hell; all that time, leaving his brain to rot from disuse.

Demons gave up early on. They lived thousands of years and were nearly impossible to kill. The longevity and hardiness paved the way to a constant procrastination due to the seemingly never ending stream of tomorrows. Humans, at least the humans up in paradise, were different. Tomorrow and its end seemed closer. Life was short and every human battled to take as much of it as it could. They couldn't afford to not improve. To not evolve meant the same as death. Demons must've evolved at one point too, but they had stopped with the great powers and vitality received. Maybe that was the reason why they were abandoned, he thought, they had stopped changing and became too much of a bore to observe.

The portals were drifting even more slowly than the first time he had come. They hung in the air and moved lightly as a feather attempting its drop. The number of them was intimidating. So many surface worlds, but just how many could be paradise? He tried not to think about it and let his feet lead him aimlessly. Not long afterwards, he stopped in area less concentrated with portals. Only a couple hundred were in the surrounding air. He himself wasn't sure just exactly why, but something made him look down. At his feet was a portal just like rest. He opened it.

When he opened his eyes, he was again in an alley. The world was most similar in technology to his second failed attempt, but the apartment complexes seemed to contend with each other in height and thus supremacy; there was no equality, only competition. The air told of paradise. Neuro smiled. He had only arrived on that surface world for perhaps an hour, and a scent of a mystery was already wafting through the air.

The scent took him to a ceremony of sorts to bury the dead (although for what particular reason, Neuro did not know; in Hell, dead bodies were eaten by the scavengers). He perched himself upon a pole from which there was a good view of the group gathered there. As he looked among the crowd, he suddenly craned his neck for a better look, not believing what he saw.

There was the girl, alive and not dead as he remembered her to be. True, her hair was shorter; true the face was a bit different; but what was a face anyways? He could tell it was her; the inside had barely changed. Very conveniently, the scent was surrounding her. Good. She could be used again; and she had been a most amusing person.

The ceremony was apparently for her father, which was also the reason for the mystery wrapped around her; it had been a murder. He tailed her as she returned home and found her to have a house which was a mansion compared to the one he had last seen.

She was crying again. Not loudly, but still audible. She sat curled up against the wall indulging in her sorrows. If it had been _him_ in the situation, he would've been laughing. Such nice puzzle handy and another was already beginning to form! Who could stop laughing?

Her reaction was a facsimile of the one from before. It was as though a hand had swept her mind blank of that time, for she had no memory of him. It was annoying, having to go through introductions again, having to re-establish a contract, and then to top it all off, having to go over the rules again. At least this time, she asked fewer questions and quietly accepted certain things many others would've questioned. If a hand had tried to sweep her mind blank, it must've not have done it meticulously as a few traces of that time were apparently still in there.

For the most part, it was worth it. Even among humans, she was odd. She was less satisfied with a calm, peaceful, normal sort of life than many were led to believe. She craved for spice in her life, although she had done a good job being content with the ordinary until shown the bizarre. After that, instead turning in fear from the bizarre, she turned towards it in curiosity and almost embraced it. There'd be complaints, but in the end, the lure of a different sort of life drew her back. Normality held no appeal. That much had not changed.

And that time, he watched her evolve. At first, it was slow and truthfully, disappointing. There had even been a time when he had thought that her evolution may have ended. To his great relief, he had been wrong. She continued by his prodding, by the pushing of others, and also by her own desire to see how far she could go. Soon, the pace of evolution sped up and she developed into someone that he could rely on. She had kept promise, although if she could really get better than _him_ one day was still to be seen. He wouldn't be surprised if she did; humans there would surpass demons one day.

There was no doubt in his mind that the ultimate mystery laid on that surface world. Every mystery, one for a snack or banquet, was better than the best that Hell could offer. He wished he wouldn't have to return to Hell. A few times, his body had nearly crumbled when his stores of demonic energy had dried up, but still, he clung to that surface world and refused to let go. The first time, he managed to refill his reservoir and passed the crisis with a full stomach. The second time, he nearly died. If it had been before, he would've returned to Hell long before that point, but he too, had changed.

He had realized what that flavor was, after all, he had experienced it himself.

Desperation.

Knowing that it was hopeless, but attempting it anyways. Knowing that it was selfish, but going through with it despite that. It was in every mystery, within every criminal and human being in varying degrees. In a normal state of mind, it was for the most part dormant. In criminals such as the doctor and his 'copy', the mystery was practically nothing but it.

He too, was filled with it during his battles with that single member of a new species. That man threatened his food source, and thus, had to be killed. He had been a handful, nearly killing Neuro. Zera, who had apparently been sent to that surface world to retrieve him, was shocked at his attempts. He didn't understand _why_ Neuro would try so hard at saving one food source when with the trillions of other surface worlds there had to be others with mysteries as rich as that one was. The most foolish act in the history of Hell, Zera had said of it. Truth was, saving his food source had only been part of the reason. Neuro too, wanted to evolve. Demons hadn't reached the end of their evolution yet, it was just that no one had bothered trying.

It was uncertain if he succeeded, but it was certain that he had changed. There was more time, and certainly, he had evolved by the time he died, thousands of years later.

He returned to Hell after the final battle was won via Zera's overly large mouth (for once useful). He was hesitant, but he knew that he had no chance of surviving any longer on the surface world without a visit to Hell first. His hesitation was, as much as he hated to admit it, due to fear. What if he couldn't return to this mystery-rich surface world? What if he could but the humans had all died off due to some threat like the one he had dealt with? What if…?

It was the girl quelled his worries. She made another promise that she would continue to evolve until the evolution made that surface world brighter than all the others. The last promise had been kept, he had no reason to believe that the second wouldn't be too.

And so, he returned to Hell as content as could be. Then, as soon as his body was returned to normal conditions and his battery supply refilled, he returned to the surface worlds.

_You're going again?! _

_Of course._

_Those humans are probably all dead by now…_

_Perhaps. But, they always come back eventually, don't they?_

Once again, he found himself in the transition layer, surrounded by portals. Every single little bauble of light was homogenous as the rest. Then, he spotted one which seemed to glow just slightly brighter.

He smiled and opened the gate to paradise.

* * *

A/N: So. Long. Not sure if I really like this chapter. I might revise this later once I'm not as lazy.


	8. Epilogue

A/N: This is it, a short epilogue and it's done.

---Full Cycle---

Birth.

Life.

Death.

The three main parts to one cycle of life. Each spinning out its beginning and end, then looping back to the beginning. Each spinning in its own secured place on the Wheel of Time. Some cycles are shorter than others, and others hundreds of times longer; yet each lasts only an instant when juxtaposed against the Wheel. The Wheel itself will not complete its own cycle until eternity ended, and so, it seems to stretch on to forever.

A thin, almost invisible, thread stretches between certain cycles, threading together thousands of cycles like beads on a string. Cycles which contain the same 'being', for the birth-to-death cycles aren't the only cycles on the Wheel.

Birth.

Life.

Death.

Rebirth.

That cycle will only end once the Wheel completes its cycle, so it too, seems endless. It can hardly be seen, for if there were no threads, each cycle seems to be its own separate entity.

Though the 'being' within is the same in those connected cycles, they are reset at the beginning of each rebirth. The lifes lived seem unaffected by the others lived by the same being. But the lifes haunt each other with phantom images and inexplicable emotions and actions. After all, what the mind forgets, the 'being' itself continues to remember.

Separate yet interconnected.

Forgotten but remembered.

Repetition, granted wishes, retribution; oh, how it all returns to us in a full cycle.

* * *

A/N: And my second multi-chapter fic is completed.


End file.
